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zukkaart · 9 months

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Zukka, #13. “Why am I always your second option?” because 😈

Wonderful wonderful,

For the prompt game! (No one has picked my favorite one yet, bonus points if you do 😘)

Anyway here ya go

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Exactly five years after the end of the 100 year war. A celebration is in order.

“So Sokka, who are you going to invite to the celebration?” Katara calls to her brother through the now open doorway connecting their rooms.

“I figured I’d just bring Toph, you’re going with Aang and she never bothers to ask anyone,” Katara gives him a completely unimpressed look. “What?” He asks defensively.

“You take Toph to everything, and anything you can’t take her to, you take me to. Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation, even our own events”

“So? Is it wrong that I feel comfortable around you guys? Who else am I supposed to ask? Suki is still flittering around the EK helping in reconstruction and damage control, and she’s dragging Ty Lee along with her.” He pauses, a sly grin crossing his face, “Are you suggesting I ask Azula?”

Katara placed a hand on her chest in shock, “Absolutely NOT! I’m just saying it wouldn’t kill you to meet new people,”

“Actually- considering the semi-frequent attempts on my life due to my station as emissary, it very well could,” He countered, Katara only rolled her eyes.

“You know, you could always ask Mai” She offered. That stopped Sokka in his tracks. With one hand still holding his half-done braid tight he turned to face her.

“And have Zuko light me on fire? Absolutely not. Why do you hate me?” Sokka whined as the dutiful older brother he was.

“Sokka, they broke up. Like 6 months ago. For La’s sake do you ever pay attention when I speak? I’m going to get Aang, he told me if the meeting ran over three hours so to go save him. Think about talking to Mai, okay?” She said the last part with a genuine tone, but Sokka simply threw her a particularly vulgar gesture as she strode into the hall.

He grumbled to himself as he finished braiding his hair in the water-tribe style, letting the ends loose in his signature wild tail. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment. He was twenty one now, and definitely looked it. He stood just over six feet and his build had filled out so much that sometimes it was hard to not think it was it father staring back at him.

“You know what Katara? Maybe I will,” He flexed his arms in the mirror, smiling satisfied to himself, straightened his sleeveless blue tunic, and set on his way down the hall towards Mai’s room.

~~~

“I can’t Mai, I just can’t look at one more persons ‘ideas’ on how to improve any number of things. My head is spinning, I think if I have to go over these supply routes one more time I’ll burst in to flames.” Zuko slammed his hand down onto his wooden desk, his meeting robes were hanging off his shoulders loosely. Mai sat beside him picking her nails, as disinterested as ever.

“Just tell them that you’ve got it handled and don’t need any more input. You’ve been Fire Lord for five years now Zuko, you’re not a little kid anymore” His only response was a deep groan.

Just then a knock came, but not on his door, it sounded distant. “I think that’s for me,” Mai stood with a heavy sigh “I swear if one more servant offers me tea I’ll puke” she opened Zuko’s door with an impatient “Yes?”

“Oh Mai! I was hoping I could find you,” A familiar deep voice came from the hallway. Zuko immediately jumped to his feet and straightened his robes, tying the belt so tight he almost couldn’t take a full breath. He tried to come in to Sokka’s view as casually as possible and simply hoped that he didn’t look as awful as he felt.

“Oh hey Sokka, did you need something?” Zuko spoke before Mai could make one of her signature snide remarks.

“Oh Zuko, I’m so sorry. Katara told me that you were- I need a date to- she said I- oh never mind” Sokkas face flushed all the way to his ears. Zuko thought he looked adorable. For all of his bulging muscles and political skills, he’s still just that awkward 16 year old boy who thought he could fly a bison in to the heart of the fire nation.

To his surprise, Maj stopped Sokka before he could take his leave of them. He strode over to them sheepishly. He looked absolutely stunning, obviously having just gotten finished getting ready for the night’s festivities.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Mai simply brushed past him to return to her own room.

“Oh wait, I-“ Sokka called after her, but her door had already slammed shut. He sighed and slid down the wall, firmly planting himself on the marble floor. “Why can’t I do anything right Zuko?” The Fire Lord eyed him quizzically.

“What are you talking about?”

“Katara told me you two had broken up, so I came here to- I don’t know, it’s stupid. And it doesn’t matter because I didn’t realize Katara was wrong. I’m sorry.” Sokka placed a hand atop is head in frustration.

This is it. Zuko thought to himself. He came here to ask me to attend the festival with him, but I need to make sure he knows Mai and I aren’t together.

“Oh, Katara wasn’t wrong,” Zuko sank to his knees beside him. “We did break up, she was just helping me with some trade routes,” Sokka chucked to himself, shaking his head lightly.

“Well it doesn’t matter,” what? “She obviously wants nothing to do with me,” oh

Zukos heart plummeted into his stomach. Mai, he had come to ask Mai to the festival. Not him. Ugh, how could he have been so stupid? Instead of the hot sting of embarrassment rising in him, all Zuko felt was… rage

“Mai?” He scoffed and rose to his feet. “You came to ask Mai to the festival?”

“Yeah.” Sokka stood and matched his defensive stance, “Something wrong with that?” The water tribe boy folded his arms over his chest, a scowl settled upon his features.

“Something wro- are you out of your mind?!” Zuko couldn’t choke down his emotions any more, but it seemed Sokka was not the best at reading emotions.

“You’ve been broken up for six months, and you’re obviously on good terms. Why shouldn’t I?” Sokka stepped aside into Zukos room so he could shut the door behind them. “Katara told me not to take Toph, I don’t want to go alone”

“Are you seriously that thick?” Zuko’s accusation hit Sokka like a bucket of cold water. “And to think that I- UGH” He threw his hands in the air.

“To think that you what?” Sokkas tone was much gentler now. He realized that there was something about this situation that he missed, and it was a big something. They stood in silence for a moment- then it hit him. “Oh, oh my La Zuko I am so sorry. You thought that I came to ask you?” All of the frustration had eddied from his voice, all that was left was confusion and a tinge of sadness.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” Zuko waved him off, tightening his sash even more. “I dont know why I thought you would,”

“Me either,” Sokka noticed his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. “No- not like that, you just never seem to want to go with me to anything.”

“What are you talking about?” Zuko snipped back

“Last years diplomat ball, Mai was busy, so you asked me. Three years ago the solstice in the south, you asked Katara but Aang showed up so then you asked me. Six months ago you asked Ty Lee to the opening of the new theater, but she had to leave but I was in town so then you asked me.” Sokka’s voice raised in volume with every account he laid out. “Why am I always your second option?”

It was Zuko’s turn to be embarrassed. He had misread this situation horribly. Sokka was trying to respect his boundaries, and Zuko had essentially just accused him of stringing him along. Really, it was Zuko who had done the pulling.

“Oh… oh Sokka I am so-“ He reached out but Sokka pulled away before he could make contact.

“Don’t Zuko… just don’t,” His eyes were as cold as ice as they fixed themselves to Zuko. “You always treat me like an alternate, and I’m always there. When everyone else falls through I am there. So don’t you dare accuse me of coming here under false pretenses, I have just been trying to protect myself,” Now that hit Zuko like a ton of bricks. Sokka felt the need to protect himself from Zuko. And honestly- Zuko didn’t have a good reason for why he shouldn’t.

Zuko had never meant to string him along of course, but it just kind of…happened. It wasn’t conscious, it was just because Sokka was always there, he was safe and comfortable to be around. In his royal training he was always taught it was polite to ask the highest ranking woman (or your partner, but it was always assumed that the Fire Lords parter would in fact be the highest ranking woman) to an event first, but he now realized that there’s no way Sokka could have known that. Zuko could definitely understand how that would look from the outside. How could he have been so foolish.

“Sokka you don’t need to protect yourself from me. I didn’t understand how you felt, I got wrapped up in customs and didn’t consider how it could possibly have made you feel. For that I am truly sorry…” Sokka said nothing, just pinned him with that same impassive look. “One thing I don’t understand though…” Zuko continued, Sokka raised an eyebrow, “Is why it went this far, I mean we only ever went as friends, you knew that.”

Of course Sokka new that, but that didn’t keep the knife in his gut from twisting. He couldn’t help but let out a bitter, humorless laugh.

“Oh Zuko, you really don’t get it do you?”

“What’s there to get? You’re my best friend, we went to a few events together, nothing sinister,”

“Oh is that what you’re aiming for?” Sokka began to pace the room

“Of course not… I don’t understand what’s happening Sokka, please tell me what’s going on,” Zuko had already made a fool of himself by assuming something once this evening, he wasn’t about to do it a second time.

“For Agnis sake,” Sokka took a sharp step toward him, it started Zuko so much that they both tripped and went flying backwards, landing in a heap of robes and curses. Sokkas head cracked against his mouth, splitting his lip open.

“Ouch,” Zuko groaned, he tasted blood. Sokka listed his head to look him in the eye, preparing to berate him for being so uptight but then… they were so close.

Zuko’s lip throbbed, but all he could focus on was Sokka’s warm breath mingling with his own, and his jasmine and musk scent dominating his senses.

Sokka stayed there, unmoving, steady. Zuko didn’t dare to even shift for fear that he’d get up. Of course- they’d been this close before, they’d sparred and slept next to each other on trips. But this felt… different somehow. Intimate. Was the word that Zuko’s brain provided him.

Then, a calloused thumb was wiping the stray droplets of blood off his bottom lip. Normally, it would have hurt, but Zuko’s entire body was buzzing with uncertainty and anticipation.

Before another thought could pass through his conscious mind, Sokka’s lips were on his. Cool and steady.

And it was like the answer to a question Zuko had been asking his whole life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah my favorite idiots.

This could have been WAY longer so count your blessings.

Thank you for this prompt! Xoxo

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talenlee · 1 year

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January's Game Project: Adventure Town!

Adventure Town is a roll-and-write game about running a town that adventurers pass through, a type of thing that I seem to find really fascinating.

Gunna level with you: I had a lot of writing to do this month. I work on it a little bit at a time, trying to find time to make pushes to finish it, especially since it seems to me to be a really easy project to just get finished, but tell you what: I haven’t had the time in January. This is life, and part of my life in January was a combination of helping someone move, a convention, and a lot of writing for the most important project of my life.

Adventure Town suffered. But it didn’t get nothing done. Particularly, what got done was a very important thing, in my mind: I stopped trying to make perfect mechanics, and managed to instead, get some good mechanics down.

Here’s the updated player sheet, the thing you’re meant to print. There’s going to be a version of it without background graphics, and I need to redo the logo panel, because it’s made with a font I can’t identify any more. But check out down in the bottom panel, the panel that gets folded outside where everyone can see it.

Here’s a close-up on the field that’s there.

This grid represents the die rolls that you make throughout the game; every time you roll a number, you can cross it off the grid. You can also, if you use most of a line so that only one single number is left visible (like, say, two 1s or one 6) when you do roll that number, you can cross them all off, and the line bubble at the side, and get a bonus equal to the number of tiles you’ve crossed out.

Now you may be wondering why I’m so proud of this. It’s because this grid is the thing that’s been holding me back for so long. I couldn’t think of how I was going to structure this so it had both all the numbers in it, and presented an interesting puzzle without becoming too orderly and boring. Wanna know what principle makes this grid work? How I got it to work this way…?

I randomised it.

Just straight up, randomised the unicode in excel, and dumped it into a grid.

The result is a little weird and uneven. In a more full-fledged release, I will probably do a few versions of that grid, maybe even making it so the ‘secret’ panel doesn’t let you choose your heroes for your quest! But the point here is that this little rolling panel is finally made and all it took was admitting to myself that just because I had design space, didn’t mean I needed to be clever about filling it.

In addition to that, here’s the state of the rules so far, as written:

Components

In your copy of GAME, you need the following:

A deck of cards with all but the face cards (Jack, Queen, King), Ace cards, and Joker cards removed.

A number of six-sided dice equal to two for each player.

One town sheet for the players to share

One player sheet for each player

A writing device for each player, like pens, pencils, crayons or possibly some form of arcane burin

Counters to represent coins

How To Play

GAME is a roll-and-write dice-drafting game where all the players are going to be playing as interested parties trying to build up the town and turn it into a thriving village that relies on the travelling adventurers that move through the town. To that end, all you need to start with to build a town around is an inn for them to meet in.

Setup

Take the player boards and fold them up so that players can track their numbers privately. Set the Town sheet in the middle of everyone, where players can check it regularly. Turn the Ace and Joker cards face-up, then shuffle all the cards together. Then, each player selects two of the squares on their player sheet and cross them off, indicating the money that helped start up the town. Count a number of dice equal to the number of players. This is the dice pool.

Each player looks at the secret, folded-in section of their player board, and selects the four heroes they want to be part of their quest, marking them off, and for each hero, they write a number 2 through 5.

Then, select a first leader, and start the game.

Play

The game takes place in turns with one player leading.

First, the leader takes the dice pool and rolls all the dice.

Starting with the leader, each player takes one of the dice out of the rolled pool. Once all the dice are chosen, players can spend them on their player board.

You can cross off a single die on your grid on your board that matches the die you drafted. You get 1 coin for this. If you’ve drafted multiple dice, you can cross off one number that matches each dice.

If on your board, you have a vertical line or horizontal row where all the un-crossed numbers match, and you have a die of that number, you can cross the marker at the end of the row, and get a bonus payment of one coin for each crossed-out dice. Cross the remaining numbers in that line or row.

Once each player has spent their dice, starting with the lead player, players can invest money into improving the town.

You can build a building by paying its cost, on the tile. Initial the buildings you own.

You can pass and save your coins

Once each player has either made an investment or passed, the lead player flips the top card of the deck to see which adventurer stops by the town.

Hearts, representing Holy heroes.

Jack: The Avenger.

Queen: The Paladin.

King: The Cleric.

Diamonds, representing Mercantile heroes

Jack: The Rogue.

Queen: The Warrior.

King: The Marshall.

Clubs, representing Natural heroes

Jack: The Ranger.

Queen: The Barbarian.

King: The Druid.

Spades, representing Arcane heroes.

Jack: The Wizard.

Queen: The Spellsword.

King: The Bard.

If the top card of the deck is a face-up Ace, that player sets it face up in the discard pile and flip the top card of the deck to see what adventurer is coming instead. That ace is now active in the deck.

If the top card of the deck is a face-up joker and there are no face-up aces left in the deck, put it in the discard face-up and flip the top card of the deck instead. That joker is now active in the deck.

If you flip an active Ace, flip cards from the top of your deck until you reveal two adventurers, who come to town together and both trigger.

If you flip an active Joker, flip cards from the top of your deck until you reveal three adventurers, who come to town together and all trigger.

Each hero visits the buildings that match their suit and their rank. If a hero in your Quest visits one of the businesses you own, and you have a dice drafted that matches the number on your secret quest area, you can cross that hero off. You can only do this with one adventurer per round, and your buildings can only give one section of the quest (meaning you need at least four buildings to give your quest out in full). You can spend one coin to change the number of your dice by one up or down (once).

After the adventurers trigger, put all the adventurer cards from this turn into a discard pile. If at any time you need to do anything with the cards in the deck and it’s empty, shuffle the discard pile and use it to replace the deck.

Do this only when the whole deck is empty – so if you need to flip three adventurers (for example) off the top of the deck, and you flip two then the deck is empty, shuffle the discard pile, make a new deck with it, and flip the top cards of it until you find that third adventurer.

With the adventurers done with the town, the lead player passes the dice pool to the next player and they’re the lead player. A new round begins.

Winning

A player wins the game when they mark off a complete Quest, at the end of the turn. It’s possible for multiple players to win the game at the same time. If this bothers you, I recommend solving it by stabbing one another.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Games #Making #Projects

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superhero--imagines · 3 years

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A/N: Sorry, but this has been living in my brain rent free too, my commission info is here

* Honey if you’re tall with a big butt-

* You’ve got his heart the second he lays eyes on you

* Like everything he is and everything he will be -

* Baby you can have it all if you’ll agree to be his

* If you’re not tall with a big butt, well don’t worry Yuuji’s still going to adore you it just takes a little time

* It’s not so much because he doesn’t think your smoking hot or anything-

* It’s just, well, Yuji’s kinda dumb

* So anyone outside of his immediate go-to type, it just doesn’t register in his brain

* You can bet your ass he’ll say dumb crap like-

* “Friends can hold hands right?”

* Or

* “Friends kiss sometimes, no big deal!”

* But don’t worry babe, it might take a little while, but eventually he’ll notice all these feelings he’s been categorizing as “friendly” feelings and “positive” feelings are actually Romantic feelings

* Once he finally figures it out, you won’t have to wait long-

* “Oi, (Y/N/N), want to be my lover?”

* Like seriously, not even a second after he has this ‘monumental’ realization

* After that things are pretty easy between you two

* It’s not like much has changed, he’s still your friend, and he doesn’t act any different-

* You guys were holding hands and, apparently, kissing before you were officially dating

* It’s not even that he’s greedy with the way he touches you or anything-

* I think the only thing that does change is that Yuji makes an effort to spend more time with you

* “Oi, wanna go to Shibuya this weekend? There’s a Taiyaki store I’m dying to go too”

* He makes an effort to spend time with you even when he’s not around, like sending you texts and voicemails when he’s away

* Part of the reason he’s so insistent on spending as much time with you as possible is probably because he’s not sure how much time he has left

* I think, Yuji is a really simple guy who sees the good in everyone, so he’s also kind of attracted to anyone given the right circumstances

* But I think, he especially wants someone compassionate

* Someone who will hold him during depressive episodes where he’ll wonder- what if I hadn’t joined the occult club? What if he had played track like everyone wanted? What if he had just minded his own business

* What if Megumi hadn’t followed him to the hospital that day, how different would his life be right now

* And it’s the same regret and remorse that fuels his cursed energy, but for some reason it feels like it’s magnified right now

* It feels like he might drown in this despair

* During those days you just hold him, whispering good things about the world.

* Soft things that’ll help him right now-

* Something to give him hope

* “Hot tea on a cold day” you whisper

* “The feeling of basking in sunlight after a cloudy day”

* There’s a moment of silence as you think of something else to say

* “The smell of rain, and fresh cut grass” he’ll mumble back, and you grin

* “Getting Taiyaki in Shibuya with someone you love” you reply with a grin

* “With ice cream filling and boba?”

* You laugh, what a weird combination

* “Anything you want”

* Yuji’s not the one that’s hard to get along with tbh, the one you have trouble with is Sukuna

* “You know you’ll never save him, I don’t know why you’re trying so hard”

* You would hit Sukuna if it didn’t mean slapping Yuji’s cheek too

* “Shut up what do you know”

* Honestly Yuuji’s a little surprised at the hatred Sukuna shows you

* “Shouldn’t you be happy they’re around?”

* For one because you’re around there’s been more *clears throat* romantic incidents, which of course always leave Yuji in a pretty vulnerable state

* He’s only an orgasm away from having Sukuna take over tbh

* And besides-

* You’re his weakness

* They say the sun is 92 million miles away, but he swears his sun is walking in front of him on the in Shibuya, his hand held firmly in yours

* If anything ever happened to you-

* He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, he wouldn’t be able to go on anymore.

* And that’s when the curse that lives inside him wins

* So he really doesn’t get why Sukuna’s acting like this is the worst thing to ever happen to him

* Sukuna opens an eye on Yuji’s cheek

* “I hate their kind most of all, even more than Jujutsu Sorcerers” he grumbles

* He really does hate you-

* He hates that you’re kind

* He saw your type all the time at his harem, some lowly thing relatives had sold off for money and honor-

* Or a prize from a nation he conquered

* Some dumb creature that thought you would get a reward for sacrificing yourself

* Truly idiotic

* The worst part is he’s starting to like those little fantasy’s you spin for Yuji

* He can feel the sunlight warning his skin after a cold day

* He can taste the heavy condensation of the steam that wafts off of his cup of tea, brushing against his face. The heat in direct contrast to the cold winter air

* And it hurts him to know he probably won’t feel like that again, not for a long time

* Not with you helping Yuji work through his negative feelings like you do

* So he hates you

* He hides his contempt in general, it only leaks out through an occasional insult

* “Where’s your kindness now?” He’ll jeer when you’re having a bad day

* Only for Yuuji to smack his cheek to get him to shut up

* “Ah, don’t pay any attention to him. He’s just grumpy”

* For the most part it’s nothing you can’t handle

* Really you kind of forget he’s there most of the time, until one day you see Sukuna pop out and take a bite of your Taiyaki as you hold it out to Yuji who said he wanted to taste the flavor

* “Oi that was mine!” Yuji screeches, slapping his own face while Sukuna smiles from his hand

* “You just like torturing me don’t you?” He weeps, and you offer him sympathetic pats on the back, giving him another bit of your Taiyaki

* He continues on about how Sukuna just loves to torment him, and honestly why can’t they get along when they share a body

* But your mind is elsewhere

* The next time Sikuna see’s you is when Yuji’s sleeping, the damn brat snores so loud he’s considering throttling him just to get some peace and quiet

* That’s when he hears the door creak, seeing you curling inside around it, a plastic bag in hand

* Great, the perfect end to the perfect day

* “The brats sleeping” Sukuna grumbles from Yuji’s hand-

* He would have spoken from his face but the only thing more annoying than having to deal with Yuji’s snores is having to hear the lovey-dovey crap tumble from his lips when he talks to you

* He figures you’ll leave, or maybe curl up against Yuji on the bed but instead you kneel down, your hand dipping into the plastic bag

* “I’m not here for him,” you start pulling out a Taiyaki.

* “You wanted one right?” That’s why he took a bite, because he wanted to try it too

* Though, annoying Yuji was probably an added bonus

* You hold up the Taiyaki to Sukuna’s ‘mouth’

* And he’s overcome with emotion

* It’s not like he hasn’t had concubines from his harem feed him a great number of things before -

* Like he hasn’t ever felt the tender act from one of his many lovers -

* So he hates that you’re the one that’s bringing out all these emotions in him

* And as he takes a bite from the Taiyaki he finally admits it-

* If you were in his harem, a moronic kind fool like you were one of his lovers

* You would be his favorite

* And that’s why he hates you so much

* Because just like Yuji, you’re his weakness

* “It’s not the same flavor” he mumbles

* “Sorry I couldn’t get the ice cream, it would have melted on the way here-“

* Sukuna wouldn’t have minded one bit licking the cream from your fingers, maybe he would even catch that embarrassed face you always make with the damn brat

* “So I got you a custard one, and a chocolate one, and on the off chance you weren’t in the mood for something sweet I got you a curry filled one too”

* You stumble, hand flying into the bag to pull out the other two, holding them up to him

* And despite himself, Sukuna finds the sight quite...cute

* “Well, I suppose these offerings will do for now wench” And his words are harsh, but you smile like the kindhearted fool you are.

* And that’s how Yuji starts getting pestered for “just five minutes alone with their baby”

* “Scared I’ll show them a better time than you can?” Sukuna grins

* Of course he is! Sukuna had a literal harem of lovers. Who knows what kinds of techniques he knows

* But Yuji’s pride won’t let him admit it

* Yuji scoffs

* “I’d rather die again then let you come anywhere near them”

* It’s kind like you’ve got two boyfriends

* One pink haired one that’s the literal personification of sunshine

* And another, more dark and sadistic one

* And it’s sort of a funky little relationship

* But it’s yours

* “I wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world” you whisper.

* Your lips brushing against his

* Yuji wouldn’t trade you for anything either

* He loves you ❤️

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jungshookz · 3 years

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teeny tidbits: jungkook picks y/n up from class & all eyes are on him

➺ pairing; badboy!jungkook x y/n

➺ wordcount; 1.6k

➺ p.s. yes i’m aware this REEKS of 2012 wattpad clichés and i basically groaned and rolled my eyes the entire time i was writing this but i’m trying to redeem myself from the tragedy that was the 2018!badboykook fic and 2021!cee needed to get this out of her system!!! and sometimes cheesy things are good for the soul!! please enjoy this teeny tidbit and feel free to roll ur eyes with me

(unfortunately i wasn’t able to track down the original maker of this gif but this is where i sourced it from! all credits go to the maker of course :-)))

»»————-　🏍️　————-««

“can’t you ask jungkook to get us in?” jimin sighs frustratedly, nudging you with his elbow before reaching over and pulling the door open for you, “come on… this is going to be the party of the semester! we can’t miss it!”

“i’m sure there’ll be a big ol’ party next semester, jimin-” you roll your eyes playfully before shaking your head, “besides, we’ve been to dozens of parties already! the world isn’t going to end if we don’t go to this one, right?”

“but kim taehyung is hosting this one!” jimin exclaims, grabbing onto your elbow before giving you a shake, “and his parties are legendary. do you know what people are going to say if they find out i wasn’t there??”

good grief

you’ve come to really like jimin in the five-ish months that you’ve gotten to know him, but if there’s one thing you could change about him it’d be his obsession with campus parties

(sometimes you think that jimin probably wouldn’t hang around you as much if you weren’t dating jungkook and his magical ability to get into pretty much any party possible... but that’s a conversation you can have with him another day.)

“you care far too much about what people think.” you frown, shaking your head in disappointment, “i promise you no one’s going to care when you tell them you weren’t at one party-”

“come on…! please??” your eyes widen when jimin stops in his tracks and stomps down on the ground like a petulant child, his plush bottom lip pushed out in a pathetic little pout, “don’t do this to me, huh? just- just bring it up to jungkook and see what he says- promise me you’ll ask jungkook- please please please-”

“okay, okay!” you turn around to face jimin before letting out a huff, “fine. if it’ll get you to stop whining, i promise you i’ll ask jungkook about getting you-”

“-us-”

“-us- getting us into this dumb party.” you smile, crossing your fingers behind your back, “happy?”

you most certainly will noT be asking jungkook about getting you guys into this party because you’re sick of going to parties!

sure, this is all part of your ~university experience~ but that doesn’t mean you have to go to a party every other weekend

you’d love to just stay in and sleep

god, you’d kill for a good, long night of sleep...

even thinking about it now is making you drowsy

“mhm!” jimin’s face immediately lights up in a delighted smile before he points over your shoulder, “you can ask him right now.”

“ask him n-” you glance over your shoulder, eyes widening in surprise to see jungkook waiting for you by the sidewalk, “-ow... uh, perfect!”

jungkook’s here!

...you… weren’t expecting him to be... here...

jungkook gives a couple of girls a polite smile and a nod of acknowledgement as they walk past him with flirty giggles

“okay, uh-” you turn back to give jimin a stiff smile before crinkling your nose and holding a finger up, “would you mind waiting here for me?”

“i'll wait as long as you want me to as long as you get us into that party-!” jimin calls out after you as you hurry down the brick steps to jungkook

“holy shit. i’d love give his motorcycle a ride-”

“mhm, any day... any day!”

you stumble over your feet a little as two girls brush past you from behind, leaving a trail of sweet-smelling perfume tickling at your nose

“hey, there you are!” a grin spreads on jungkook’s face when he sees you coming towards him, pushing himself up so he’s not leaning against his motorcycle, “i was worried i was at the wrong building.”

“uh-huh, so what are you-” you clear your throat quietly before letting out a nervous chuckle, giving your boyfriend a chummy, super casual and not at all romantic punch to the chest, “what are you, uh, doing… here?”

“picking you up from… class?” he mocks your high-pitched tone with a boyish smile before pursing his lips, “you are done for the day, right? that’s what your schedule says.”

“yeah, i’m done, i just- wait a minute-” you frown, your eyes flickering to the side as you try to recall jungkook’s schedule, “shouldn’t you be in a biology lecture right now?”

“the prof dismissed us, like, forty minutes early.” jungkook shrugs, “so i thought i’d come and pick you up so that you didn’t have to walk all the way back to your dorm to meet m-”

“-why’d you take the bandaids off your cheek?” you interrupt him suddenly as you reach up to cup his face, gently brushing your thumb over the healing cut on his cheekbone (he was half-asleep and walked directly into the frame of the bathroom door), “i told you to keep them on for another day. i was going to take them off for you tonight.”

“they made me look lame.” he scrunches his nose and you immediately frown in disapproval, “plus, showing off the cut makes me look so much cooler-”

“that’s not a legitimate excuse-”

“it so is!” jungkook turns his head before pointing at it, “look at that and tell me you don’t think i’m cool-”

it’s not that you don’t love that jungkook knows what time you finish class and where exactly to pick you up (swoon!)- the thing that’s making you nervous is the fact that people naturally seem to just... stare at him whenever he’s around

to be fair, you would stare too if you didn’t know him!

the all-black outfit, the perfectly tousled hair that never seems to be out of place, the obviously very handsome face, and the shiny shiny motorcycle that makes a very obnoxious vrOOm-vroOOom sound whenever he revs the engines

you’re not embarrassed to be seen with him because you are very!!! fond of your boyfriend but…

well, it’s just that if they’re staring at him, they’re most definitely staring at you, too

and sometimes you worry that you don’t look very compatible with jungkook... and then you worry that people are laughing at you and only you... and then you wonder what people mutter to each other whenever they walk past you two and give you that awful ‘how did someone like you land someone like him?’ stare... and then you feel like you have to prove that you’re dating jungkook but you don’t want to make a scene...

it certainly doesn’t help that there are rubber-duckies on your socks

also, it’s hitting you now that it’s pretty hypocritical to call jimin out on how intense he is about other people’s opinions of him when you’re so in your head about this

jungkook tilts his head curiously when he notices you glancing around like there’s a big target on your back and he resists the urge to snort

he knows exactly why you’re so twitchy, and as much as he wants to reassure you and tell you that literally no one is paying attention to the two of you - and even if they did, who cares? - ...well, he’s allowed to have his fun, isn’t he?

“oh, what’s the matter, sweet girl? you still embarrassed to be seen with me?” jungkook coos mockingly, slipping an arm around your waist as he pulls you in towards him with a cheeky grin, “hm? don’t want anyone to see your big, bad boyfriend?”

“jungkook-!” you grip onto his forearm in alarm when he leans in, nudging his nose under your jaw so he can give the side of your neck a teasing bite, “cut it out, you weirdo-” your face immediately goes bright pink and you reach up to flatten your palm against his chest to create some distance, “jimin’s still over there-”

“is he?” jungkook hums, giving your warm cheek a kiss before pulling away and looking up towards the staircase, “ah, yep. i see him...” he gives jimin a wave accompanied with a friendly smile and jimin takes that as a sign to come over and join you two

“oh, god. he’s coming over.” jungkook keeps the smile on his face as he looks back down at you, “please tell me he’s not about to ask me about another party. i’m starting to worry that the number of times i’ve asked to come to a party is starting to make me look desperate for socialization- hey, jimin!”

you turn around so you can face jimin and jungkook reaches down to link his fingers with yours

“hey, bro!!!!” jimin greets a little too enthusiastically as he holds up his fist for a bump, jungkook’s eyes flicking down to it before he reluctantly raises his own arm to bump his fist against jimin’s, “so, like, i’m sure y/n’s already debriefed you on kim taehyung’s party-”

“ah, yeah. taehyung’s party- you sure you wanna go to that one?” jungkook frowns as he glances back down at you, “because taehyung’s from one of the sleazier frats-”

“i heard they pop open bottles of champagne and spray them, like, all over everyone-” jimin gushes, jungkook raising a brow before chuckling lightly

“and you… want that?”

“it’ll look great on my instagram highlights.”

“that… yeah, that’s a bonus for sure.” jungkook gives your hand a squeeze and you bite back a giggle, “who cares about wasting multiple bottles of expensive champagne when they make for a great instagram highlight?”

“see? you get it!” jimin chirps before looking over at you, “he gets it, y/n.”

“mm, he certainly does.”

(jungkook likes jimin, it’s just that he thinks he’s a little too eager about his place on the social ladder sometimes…)

“oh, and don’t worry-” jimin beams, “y/n and i won’t abandon you at the party or anything because i hear their house is huge-”

“yeah, because i’m the third wheel in this trio.”

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here?

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

🌟or something even shorter?

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 2 years

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tuesday again 1/25/22

BOY you sure do have to read a lot to get to the recipe in this one

listening sheldon allman’s album Folk Songs for the 21st Century is a goddamn delight. one of the tracks, crawl out through the fallout, is on the fallout 4 radio and i don’t think it’s even one of the strongest songs on the album. i am particularly fond of Big Brother bc i am a sucker for cheerily ominous songs.

You'll disappear in a wink Unless you can double think You'll vanish into the blue Big brother is watching you

youtube

reading hexed by michael alan nelson. this is a urban magic/horror series about a bitchy twentysomething what steals magical items that i wanted to like very much but didn’t quite hit for me. i think after the second issue when they switched artists and she got WAY hotter i went “oh. one of these”. props to mr nelson for writing an almost entirely female cast that all feels distinct tho! i wanted to like this much more than i actually did! while it did get stronger as it went along, the pacing remains wonky throughout and it kept telling and not showing through the medium of yanno The Comic, so big emotional beats either flopped or hit in a (probably) unintended way.

the mother-daughter stuff in particular didn’t quite hit for me. i feel like there could have been a more interesting emphasis on cycles and blood vs chosen family? this is an admirable attempt by a dude who manages to sidestep a lot of the strong female character pitfalls, but i don’t think i’ll remember this in a month bc i am unable to keep the plot of any comic book in my head for longer than that and it was simply Fine. honestly it takes a lot for me to go WHOA that was a good fuckin comic.

watching neither of my housemates had seen the lost boys (1987, dor. schumacher) so i had to fix that. this is a movie of pure vibes. the plot is whatever. i simply want to watch some EXTREMELY earnest child actors interspersed with a decaying beach town (my housemate said her new gender is “beach menace” and i’m stealing that) and the best worst fashion you’ve ever seen. i want every single shirt and also this jacket in that movie in my closet by five pm.

“tumblr user girlfriendsofthegalaxy tell us about the vampires” okay so vampires are inherently homosexual for [INSERT ANY NUMBER OF ACADEMIC PAPERS HERE] but i think this is a movie where you could really walk away muttering “wow they really all fucked each other huh” and not QUITE a canon on-screen threesome but. damn fuckin close.

unrelated, i like child vampires and wish we got to see them more often but think i personally would go insane if i was trapped in an elementary schooler’s body with my fully grown adult brain

playing vicariously enjoying @dying-suffering-french-stalkers (known sixties/seventies and french and sixties/seventies french media enjoyer) journey through the lupin iii franchise from afar. i absolutely do not have time to get into another long-running franchise with a tall sad gunman at this time but i do have time to play a short queer visual novel bc i feel like i know most of the basics and dynamics ty wendy for your excellent reporting

Is Lupin Still Flirting? is an incredibly charming watercolor visual novel on itch.io. i am a little sad about it not being on steam bc it’s so much better quality (little quality of life things, layout/structure, the music and sound effects have the correct timing and are appropriate, lovely art) than most free visual novels on steam but the licensing rights would be a nightmare. i got through two endings in about half an hour, and i imagine you could get through all five in two, two and a half hours?

great day to be a loopzoop or a polygang fan bc lupin has been caught while setting up a date for fujiko, the bonus scene is with zenigata, and there’s a goemon route and a jigen route!

making THE RECIPE

i do not know what this recipe as written is trying to accomplish. i do not know if it is a workaround of an existing home country recipe or this specific grandmother (notorious for using the same tiny jar of pre-ground white pepper for five years) made it up whole cloth and went “i’m polish so these are polish noodles :) “

Polish Holiday Noodle Dish: 1 lb. dry Mueller noodles - (sometimes pkg has been 12 oz.) Just make as usual. 1 lb. Farmer's Cheese or Large curd cottage cheese 1 very large Vidalia onion (chopped so it sautees readily) Grated Parmesan cheese 1 stick unsalted butter (or can start with quarter & add more if needed) Chop onion, Sautee in butter in large pan so they get golden. Put aside. Boil noodles - 1 minute less than package directions. Drain. Add Noodles to onion pan & toss together with Farmer's Cheese/Cottage Cheese. Add at least a Half Cup grated Parmesan Cheese, while tossing lightly. Can cook mixture over medium heat for a few minutes 'til mixed together. Season with some Black pepper if you have a preference. Pour into casserole/foil pan - lightly butter bottom so noodles don't stick. Sprinkle extra parm on top. Bake in 350° oven - uncovered 30 minutes - check - if melted & bubbly - done. - if not, give it another 10 minutes.

it doesn’t. actually i don’t know how to describe the taste. it certainly has a taste? it’s oddly sweet? it’s Fine but i would not make it again on purpose? i added salt, pepper, rosemary, oregano, thyme, and diced bacon to this altho it would have been better with kielbasa or bratwurst and fresh chives and WAY more parm. it could definitely use more sauce, my sister added half again the amount off large curd cottage cheese and liked her results much more.

it looks absolutely tragic and i think that’s a feature not a bug

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #not joking about the recipe btw

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secretkeeper13 · 3 years

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Name

A year ago today, after a few months of lurking on Ao3 and Tumblr and reading without an account, I posted my first fic. I don’t know what possessed me to start writing. I think I was so desperate for some sort of creative outlet in the monotony of quarantine life that when I got an idea, I wrote it down. And here I am a year later, still writing, though not as frequently as I’d like. Thank you @thedistantdusk, queen beta, for all your help. To all the funny, lovely people I’ve “met” on Discord, thanks for brightening the past year. And thank you to everyone who read and commented on my fics. I truly appreciate you all!

A little (belated) Harry birthday fic below the cut or on Ao3

For many years, Harry hated summer. Summer was loneliness and boredom, monotony punctuated by growls from his stomach or his aunt’s shouts. Summer was endless daylight that stretched and languished well into the night, mocking him, a prisoner in his bedroom with barred windows. Summer meant isolation, locked doors, tossing and turning alone under damp, sticky sheets.

But what he once loathed had now become his favorite season, when three weeks ago, on the terrace of their garden, under the orange glow of the evening summer sun, he’d dropped to one knee, and with shaking hands, asked Ginny to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, yet part of him still couldn’t believe it- that after everything, horcruxes and hallows, Voldemort and the Forest, she would be walking down the aisle not to a faceless stranger, but to him.

In their bed later that evening, after a round of private celebration, the sheen of sweat still clinging to their bodies, she’d told him of her idea. A wedding at the Burrow, just family and close friends, and a surprise to all but a handful, planned under the guise of her birthday party. It would keep the press from getting wind of it, she’d said, and with the ink barely dry on Rita Skeeter’s latest “expose” (Ginny plying Harry with love potions in an effort to force him to propose), he’d thought it was a brilliant plan. And secretly, Harry thought that the limited window for Molly to fuss over wedding preparation was a bonus.

“Do you think it’s crazy?” she’d asked, as her fingers traced gentle patterns over his chest. “I know it’s barely a month away.”

“No,” he said, turning his head to kiss her bare shoulder, “I’m chuffed that you can’t wait to marry me, actually.”

She grinned at him, her smile bathed in moonlight. “Afraid I’ll change my mind if we wait too long?”

“Well, love potions don’t last forever, you know. And one of these days I may slip up and forget to put it in your tea.”

“No, no- you’ve got it all wrong,” she teased, jabbing him with her finger. “I’m the one who's dosing you, remember?”

“Ah, but Rita Skeeter never gets it right, you know that,” he replied, smirking at her through the darkness.

She’d thrown her head back as she laughed, that beautiful sound echoing in the stillness, then kissed him again, and he wondered, for the thousandth time, how he’d gotten this lucky.

And now, three weeks later, on the morning of his birthday, still enjoying the glow of their secret engagement, he sat on the sofa leafing through the sports pages of the paper when Ginny’s voice rang out from upstairs.

“Harry, will you come up here for a moment?”

“Be right up,” he called back. Assuming it was something to do with the wedding, he climbed the stairs and entered their bedroom. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

Ginny stood near the foot of the bed, wearing only a Harpies jersey, her long hair swept over one shoulder, the bare skin of her other shoulder peeking out on the other side. The jersey was clearly his, as it hung on her like a dress, ending just below her bum, revealing almost all of her legs. At the sight of her, his eyes went wide and his jaw slackened instantly.

She grinned at his reaction. “Happy birthday.”

“I’ll say,” he replied, his eyes trailing down her legs, the creamy skin peppered with freckles.

She took a step closer, closing the gap between them. “I’m wearing your present,” she said, and he could tell that she was trying to sound nonchalant as she ran her hand lightly down his chest, pausing tantalizingly over the waistband of his joggers. “But I thought you’d prefer to unwrap it this way.”

“You thought right.”

He kissed her softly, his lips sliding over hers, his hands cradling her face. “Thank you,” he murmured, his lips moving to graze the shell of her ear, “I’ve been needing a new one, the old one is looking a bit worn.”

Before he could begin to move his lips down her neck, she pulled back slightly. She looked up at him, still grinning, her eyes glinting in the soft morning light. “That wasn’t why I got it for you.”

“Well, you know I’ve got a thing for you in your uniform,” he replied, leaning down for another kiss, but she put her hand lightly on his chest to stop him.

“I know- but that isn’t why either.” Her smile was so wide that her eyes crinkled at the corners. She was clearly enjoying this.

“I got it because…” She paused as she took a step back, positively beaming at him now. “You’ll be needing a jersey with my new name.”

At that, she turned so her back was facing him. And there, in bold, gold letters, the name POTTER was emblazoned above Ginny’s number.

He was stunned. They’d never discussed Ginny changing her name. He hadn’t even thought about it in the whirlwind weeks of their engagement. He’d simply assumed, given her career (not to mention her fierce sense of independence) that she would keep hers. It certainly didn’t matter to him- she’d said yes to marrying him, that was all that was important.

“Surprised?” Ginny asked.

“I, erm… yeah,” he replied, unable to form a coherent sentence as his mind raced to try to process it all.

For the first eleven years of his life, his name was delightfully ordinary. His aunt once said his name was common , the word dripping with disdain, as if it was the most grievous insult she could bestow. Her implication aside, it was true that his name wasn’t unusual. There was another Harry in his primary school. He’d seen other Potters, too. Once in the clinic, the nurse called out for “Mr. Potter,” and an elderly man rose as Harry stood. After the man smiled kindly at him and shuffled into the corridor, he’d asked Petunia innocently if the man was a relative. In response, she’d scoffed and told Harry that if he had other relatives, he certainly wouldn’t be living with her.

When he entered the wizarding world, his name ceased to be ordinary, transformed, like everything in his life, on that fateful day of his eleventh birthday. From then on, his name was notorious. It was whispered unsubtly as he walked down the corridors of Hogwarts. It was splashed across headlines in the Prophet. It was jeered by Death Eaters. Far too often, it was said with a reverence that made him exceedingly uncomfortable.

The thought of Ginny taking his name, and all that came with it, overwhelmed him. A lump began to form in his throat. He swallowed quickly, trying to compose himself, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Love- are you all right?” she said, turning back around to face him.

“I… yeah,” was all he could manage, his voice cracking.

She placed her arms around him gently, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m just s-surprised,” he stammered. “We hadn’t talked about it, and Hermione’s always going on about how it’s sexist that the woman is expected to take the man’s name. And you’ve worked so hard to make a name for yourself in Quidditch. And you know, er, feminism and all…” He trailed off, aware he was rambling.

She smiled, pulling back slightly so she could look up at him. “Well first, Hermione’s right. It is sexist that it’s assumed that a wife will take her husband’s name. But I think it’s quite clear from your reaction that you didn’t expect me to or assume I would. Right?” She raised her brow.

“Of course I didn’t. It’s fine if you want to keep yours, really.”

“But I don’t,” she said, her voice firm and clear. “Plus, I think there’s plenty of Weasleys to carry on the family name without me, yeah?”

“I know, it’s just…” He swallowed, the lump in his throat growing larger. “My name- it’s a lot. And I’d understand if you didn’t want to take that on.”

She slipped her arms around him again, pulling herself to him until she was flush to his chest. “Harry,” she said, her tone soothing, her voice reverberating on his chest, “we’ve been together since I was fifteen. I understand everything that comes with the name Potter. And that’s why I want to do this, why I’m choosing to do this- I thought it might be nice if you had someone, family, to share that with. I think that sometimes it's lonely for you, being the only Potter, and I never want you to feel alone.”

She hugged him tightly. He inhaled, his breath shaky, as he let himself sink into her embrace. Seeing her in that jersey, knowing that she wanted to take his name, that they would be united together, permanently- he was overcome. He blinked rapidly and bit his bottom lip, squeezing her back tightly, determined not to spoil the moment.

As his racing heart slowed and he composed himself, he gently tipped her chin up to look at her.

“Gin,” he said, his tone soft and earnest, “I’d love nothing more than to share my name with you. I just don’t want you to feel obligated. We could double-barrell, if you wanted-“

She rolled her eyes, “I’d prefer if our children didn’t sound like posh twats every time they introduced themselves, thanks.”

He laughed, then realized- “Our children?”

She nodded and looked up at him through her lashes. “We have talked about that, you know.”

He felt as if he would burst from happiness. He leaned down and kissed her, trying with all his might to put into the kiss what he couldn’t find the words to say, to tell her, with his mouth and the trace of his tongue, how much this meant to him.

She sighed as they broke apart. “I take this to mean you’re happy that in a week I’ll be Ginny Potter?”

“Yes. Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it, really. Honestly, I’m so thrilled that you’re marrying me, it wouldn't matter what name you’d chosen.”

She smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “In that case, I take it all back. I’m going by Ida.”

“Ida?”

“Yes, Ida Shaggem.”

He burst into laughter.

“No?” she feigned, mirth evident in her tone. “What about Anita Hardone?”

He was laughing so hard now that his shoulders shook.

Her smile grew wider and she bit her lip (he could tell she was trying very hard to keep from laughing). “Well then, I guess Ginny Potter it is.”

She burst into laughter and he pulled her to him, holding her tightly as he walked her backwards towards the bed, both of them still laughing, nearly breathless.

As they reached the end of the bed, her hands grasped the hem of the jersey to pull it off.

“Oh no,” he gasped, still trying to stop laughing. “You’re definitely leaving that on.”

#harry potter fanfiction #hinny #hinny fanfic #hinny fluff #one year writing anniversary #ginny potter

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 3 years

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Old (2021)

Oh you guys. You guyyyyyys. Buckle the fuck up, I am so pumped to tell you about this absolutely GONZO mummified deuce of a movie. Spoilers will be had in this one, because you need to know everything.

Old is the latest from M. Night Shyamalan and like....I think we all know M. Night’s track record. For every Sixth Sense, we also get a Happening or a Village. In some ways, he’s the most exciting director working today because every new film is a 50/50 coin toss, and mama loves living on the edge. The gist of this latest roll of the dice is that a group of different families who have all come to stay at a remote luxury beach resort get invited to go to a secluded private beach for the day, and after they arrive they discover they can’t leave. That’s not great, but the bigger problem is that they seem to be aging rapidly - like 2 years older every hour or so. That’s a solid “how are we gonna get outta this one” bottle episode premise, and in the hands of a better writer, it could be a fun sci-fi romp. M. is NOT that writer.

Some thoughts:

I should have known it would all go wrong from the terrible foreshadowing starting at the very beginning scene. The mom of our main family, Prisca (Vicky Krieps) says “You have such a beautiful voice, I can’t wait to hear it when you’re older.” The dad, Guy (Gael Garcia Bernal) says, “Don’t rush this moment, enjoy the present while you can.” BECAUSE THE CHARACTERS WON’T BE ABLE TO LATER, DO YOU GET IT? dO yOU GEt iT? Wife leaned over and said “look at all the ferns - the oldest plants!” That last one was probably her projecting, but the point stands: there is nothing subtle about Old.

There’s a lot of just like, shouting out loud the things that are currently happening onscreen. “She’s having a seizure!” “People who go back the way we came black out!” “The rust has entered your bloodstream; it acts like poison!” That’s how you tell stories, right? Just having characters point out events that are occurring right in front of their stupid fucking faces with no other commentary or reflection?

An additional element that feels woefully ignorant at best and malicious at worst is the inclusion of a black male character (Aaron Pierre) who 1) is a rapper 2) is named Mid-Sized Sedan [I’ll give you a moment to deal with that detail emotionally] 3) says the single line of dialogue “Damn.” at least 4 times and 4) suffers the bloodiest, most violent onscreen death at the hands of a racist white man who is revealed to have paranoid schizophrenia. There are other gruesome deaths onscreen, to be sure, but the worst are body horror nightmares that could never occur in the real world - a woman whose bones are breaking and setting in the wrong position nearly instantaneously until she resembles a horrifying spider creature, and the aforementioned rust-in-the-bloodstream trick that leads to a Jeff-Goldblum-in-The Fly-bubbling-skin infection kinda deal. But Mid-Sized Sedan just gets stabbed in the chest repeatedly, brutally, a bunch of times by a white guy who pleads fear for his life even though MSS posed no danger to him, and it all happens onscreen when so many other characters are offered the mercy of offscreen deaths. I’m not sure if M. is trying to throw some real-world horror in and he’s just shit at it, or if it really didn’t occur to him how malicious this inclusion feels in a fantasy narrative, and I don’t really care. If you have a black character in your story and they die, you better think really long and hard about how it happens and what it means and it’s clear no one did that here.

Nothing to do with the film itself, but it did tickle me that someone brought a tiny infant to my pretty packed screening. The baby was very chill, thank goodness, and as far as I know did not age up to a kindergartner during the course of the film.

There is a Very Good Dog, a Yorkie, present for the first part of the film, but unfortunately the dog dies. It occurs offscreen, and given the premise of what’s going on on this beach, it’s not a shock when it happens BUT STILL.

The old age makeup, at least on Prisca is pretty great. Good job makeup department!

At one point, Guy gets attacked by another beachgoer, and his eyesight is failing so he has a hard time fighting back. But you are surrounded by sand, my dude, and you can still see blurry shapes. You’re not gonna throw some sand in the eyes until you’ve been stabbed like 10 times? Not gonna try to push him down, or sweep the fucking leg, or do anything but just keep raising your arms and getting stabbed while yelling “I’ll protect you!” I’ve seen stale tuna sandwiches with better defense mechanisms than you.

Like most fantastical premises, there are only a certain number of ways this narrative can end that really make any sense. It reminds me quite a bit of 2019’s Brightburn which was like “what if Superman but evil?” Either everyone is gonna die, or someone is going to improbably survive and you better have a real neat explanation for how that’s possible. Oh M. Night, when will you realize that your explanations are never as clever as you think they are? There’s no “twist” here really, simply a reveal, and it’s the equivalent of eating one of those sugar-free, gluten-free, egg-free, dairy-free snack cakes I broke down and ate out of desperation when I was on Weight Watchers. That shit is “food” in the same way that the climax is a “logical explanation for all this.” Big Pharma is luring sick people to the resort through targeted ads, then arranging these excursions to the wacky time beach in order to test how medicine they secretly slipped into the guests’ drinks works over decades of life. These sneaky medical breakthroughs are saving hundreds of thousands of people’s lives, we’re told, and the scientists offer a moment of silence for each fallen group of unwitting human lab rats after they inevitably die. Because if there’s one thing the world needs right now, it’s more distrust of pharmaceutical companies and the ethics of modern science! I can’t think of one possible reason we’d want to portray molecular biologists, immunologists, and virologists in a positive light right now, can you? When will those assholes get off their high horses and stop being universally trusted and beloved by everyone, am I right??

My saddest takeaway, tbh, is that this is a stacked international cast, with at least half the roles going to POC - this is the future liberals want, etc etc - and the result is THIS.

Did I Cry? Of course not.

Not all is terrible! It’s a beautiful movie to look at, because M. Night’s direction is never the problem, but combined with the script, the acting, and the absurd narrative leaps needed to make this story make even a little bit of sense, the whole thing turns into a mess. Unfortunately, getting Old with M. Night is less “leisurely retirement at a plush resort in Florida” and more “rancid can of Ensure and a poop-choked pair of Depends.”

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#121in2021 #old #old movie #old 2021 #m. night shyamalan #old review #vicky krieps #gael garcia bernal #alex wolff #aaron pierre #movie reviews #film reviews

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beigehearts · 3 years

Text

The Price of Self Respect

this is part one of a series of yandere chrollo x fem!reader. this story will contain explicit content. Warnings at the beginning of the chapter. Please send me requests if you wish to for hxh characters and scenarios! ❤

PART I Read part two here! CW: mentions of death, murder, and gore 1,730 words

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It had been many days since you had received an assignment as a hunter. At this point you would have taken a request to open a pickle jar. You had an agent who sourced your jobs through to you that way no one could know your identity. Your agent barely knows your identity outside of your phone number. While you are no where near as infamous as the Zoldyck Family- you definitely are not unknown. “The Creator” is what most people would refer to you as- quite fitting for your ability. Specialists are not as scarce as people make them out to be; a specialist who utilizes their ability as best as they can is scarce. You conjure a pencil, and you can draw anything into existence. Your nen concentrates in your hand and you can create life (or at least a husk of life). Drawing animals or weapons, even humans (who aren’t quite sentient) earned you your high respect as a hunter.

You gaze out of the window at the quiet streets of a city you’ve never travelled to. While the hotel is large and towers over the town, it is probably the biggest building for miles. Bzzzz. You turn towards your bed and see your phone screen is lit up. Picking up the phone you see a single message from the only saved number on your phone. York New. 14:00. 1278 Pearl Street. G Watanabe- Room 207. You scroll down to see the status of the person. Alive. Wanted Dead. 7 Days. Employer ---

A smile graced your lips knowing that you finally have a job. While town hopping and sight seeing for the past few weeks was a nice rst, you can’t just halt your income. You enjoy your job anyway so the money is a bonus. Ill pack in the morning you think to yourself, once you land in York New you may have some extra time to research your target.

The plane ride was smooth and quite comforting- you paid for first class. While you could use your hunter card to be priority seating, it leaves a trace of where you’ve been. Plus, you’ll be getting paid soon enough and the 12 hour plane ride in first class would be nothing compared to the fat check that would be wired to your account. Murder is expensive you know.

Stepping out of the taxi, the driver gets out and opens the trunk for you. You grab your one small backpack filled with nothing but snacks- drawn snacks are not particularly tasty. Just because you can create it doesn’t mean it’s true to the real deal. You jog towards the doors, fat rain drops assaulting you meanwhile. You get your room key under for the room you reserved under an alias and make your way to the elevator. You press the button to go up and when the elevator reaches your floor it sounds a satisfying ‘ding’ and the doors open almost soundlessly. You stepped into the confined space and to your surprise a man steps in with you. You hadn’t even sensed him nearby, it seemed as if he just popped into reality.

He’s tall, is the first thing you think when you look at him. Not necessarily tall as in feet wise (though he definitely had quite a few inches on you) but his aura and the way he carried himself made it seem as if he towered you. The corner of his lips turn upwards and suddenly he doesn’t seem so intimidating. It’s as if he was dragged back down to earth.

“Good morning, awful weather it seems.” The man says with a chuckle. You take a moment to drink in all of him. His black hair is somewhat messy, a middle part with water dripping down a few strands. A bandage is wrapped around his forehead and you wonder if it’s an injury or a fashion statement. A large fur coat cover most of his body, you’re only able to capture a glimpse of a white button up shirt at his neck.

“Terrible. My flight almost had an emergency landing.” You groan, recalling your annoyance when the captain announced this over the speakers.

“Ah so you just got in today? I got into York New about a week ago. What are you here for?”

Your eyes travel to his and you notice that they’re unusually large while seeming to only make him more attractive. “I’m on a work trip, though I shouldn’t be here long.” His lips stretch a little further into something of a grin, “What a coincidence, I’m here on business as well.”

The elevator dings and you give a quick goodbye, not necessarily because you didn’t like talking to him but because you wanted to take a nice warm shower. You sashay out of the elevator, and the back of your neck tingles, you can tell that his eyes are boring into your back.

You drop your bag onto your bed and wander over to the mirror. Looking at you in the mirror is yourself. Though you never seem to recognize this person as you. You pose in different angles but can’t find one that makes you like yourself. You grab the chub of your stomach and groan hopelessly. A world renown hunter who has killed the unkillable is staring at herself in the mirror and grimacing. You remind yourself that you’re one of the strongest specialists out there and you shouldn’t be critiquing yourself.

A day passed and your deadline is growing nearer. You draw your outfit for the day, and put on the jeans, hoodie, and heels that were super comfortable thanks to your nen. An assassin has to look good as well as kill. Your rented car waits for you in the hotel garage and when you finally make your way down there, you do a onceover of the car. There are no signs of foul play, tracking, or marking so you hop into the drivers seat comfortably. Once the car is started your phone buzzes.

+ $2000 to your account message attached: get his pass for the auction and send it to client

You nod to yourself, you had completely forgotten about the auction. Of course you were supposed to kill a member of the mafia during the auction. How could you not have made that connection. While you are intelligent, you wouldn’t say you’re smart. Once you arrive at the hotel your target is staying at, you book a room despite the fact you will not be using it for long. In the hotel room you draw a dress that makes you look like a model, all you need is to look good and your nen for this mission, this goes for most missions.

Each minute on the clock seems to last hours, you need to leave at 01:30, in order to complete your mission at 2. This is the part you hate the most, laying on the hotel bed listening to the clock tick and tick and tick. It feels almost like the clock is mocking you, and sometimes you want to just break it. Though despite this you lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting down every minute until the clock strikes 1:30.

The last mocking tick sound rings and you get up quickly. Walking confidently out of the room and down the large and foolishly elegant hall. You make your way to the elevators where you had a run in with that man and go down to the second floor seeing as you were residing on the fourteenth. The second floor was reserved for the mafia only, many families used this hotel to be near the auction.

The elevator opens up and you examine the hall. It is much different than the one where your room is. Lights are dimmer and the color pallet of the hall was that of red and black where as yours was blue and white. You step out onto the marble floors and your heels click against the cold surface. Something’s not right. Something is very wrong, very out of place. You can smell it. The smell of blood.

207 is closer to the end of the hallway than it is to the elevators. The lights are completely off at the end of the hallway as well. With each step towards the room of your target the lights get dimmer until there is no light. You halt and look at the room with gold numbers on it stating ‘207′. The door is cracked and you approach it cautiously. You push the door open and see your target laying on the ground in hundreds of pieces, it’s a bloody mess.

A man stands in front of the window that is the entire wall, his form dark. Now the only sound present is that of the rain pounding against the glass of the window. He turns towards you, and you quickly recognize the large fur jacket. It’s the man from the elevator, his coat is open and he’s shirtless, but covered in blood. His forehead is uncovered by the bandage that was on him previously, revealing a purple cross. His demeanor is still friendly and inviting but something is different about his eyes.

He smiles and for some reason you feel drawn to him, so you take a step forward. “I’ve been waiting y/n.”

You swallow any sense of fear you have and nod, “Oh you have?”

“Of course, I thought I would make your job easier for you.” He chuckles just like he did in the elevator, as if he didn’t just commit an atrocity. But who are you to judge? “Don’t worry, I’ll still be paying you every jenny of what was promised.”

Your head cocks to the side “So you’re my client?” He nods in response.

“And I got his pass to the auction so I would say you did a pretty good job of completing your mission.” He waves the pass at you as proof.

“Can I have the pleasure of knowing your name since you know mine?” You question.

He nods again, “Chrollo is my name. You were commissioned by the spiders.”

The spiders... It quickly clicks in your head. The phantom troupe. Which means, in front of you stands the leader of the Phantom Troupe.

“It’s nice to meet you Chrollo.”

#chrollo #yandere chrollo #phantom troupe #hxh #hunterxhunter #chrolloxreader #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x you #yandere #yandere hxh #chrollo lucilfer

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tossawary · 3 years

Text

Chapter 26 “ What You Want” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

Oh, this got so long, though. I was like, “An opportunity to wax poetic about Moshang dynamics and characterization? An opportunity to talk about why my interpretations of Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua are Like That? SIGN ME UP.”

【Beginning next mission stage.】

【Death of the Author - Part 2: The Secret Basement of Shang Qinghua.】

【Mission objective: place the Weeper’s Eye on the pedestal.】

Shang Qinghua slowly sits up on his sofa. He stares at the pop-up window for however long it takes his brain to roll over completely.

“I don’t have a fucking basement?” he says finally.

AN: I have been waiting to use “I don’t have a fucking basement?” for months. Also, it’s been years for him, so Shang Qinghua is a little oblivious, BUT I would like to point readers all the way back to some paragraphs from Chapter 2.

Excerpt from Chapter 2: “A Horseshoe Nail”:

Shang Qinghua considers the point loss. What are his excuses character motivations here? Why is his unmerciful System not completely skewering him for this?

He is the servant of a demon lord, Mobei-Jun, the future Northern King, so he has a greater investment than most cultivators in the future of the Demon Realm, so it’s not unreasonable for him to seek out any bastards of Tianlang-Jun without handing the demon baby over to a righteous sect. He’s also a Peak Lord of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, so it’s not unreasonable for him to be interested in any rumors of the whereabouts of Su Xiyan or what happened to her, for political leverage or whatever. The character of Shang Qinghua originally was and still is a spy - on top of being a shameless coward willing to cling to anyone’s thighs and then stab them in the back, in order to stay alive or advance himself.

There are plenty of magical artifacts in this world that might give a power-grubbing weakling like Shang Qinghua an insight into the future. As Peak Lord of An Ding, Shang Qinghua is, in fact, in a pretty good place to get his greedy hands on one of these magical artifacts. Isn’t that what a good spy and overall ambitious snake would do?

Especially a spy serving a demon lord extremely likely to get fed up with him and kill him at some point? While also serving a righteous cultivation sect extremely likely to execute him for eventually betraying them? Of course Shang Qinghua would obviously want to know how to save his own ass from these ticking time-bombs! And how better to save his own ass than shamelessly clinging to the golden thighs of the protagonist, who will one day conquer every other demon lord and all righteous sects?

Following Luo Binghe means being on the endgame winning team!

Shang Qinghua looks over the pop-up window’s numbers over again, in regards to the loss of points. True, how exactly he tracked down Su Xiyan’s half-demon baby when the Huan Hua Palace Master failed is a bit of a plot-hole, but the rest can be easily explained away with a bit of creativity!

Oh, the rest of the cultivation world didn’t know Su Xiyan was pregnant? Well, Shang Qinghua is a slimy, sneaky spy, who would of course guess that a female cultivator might suddenly disappear like that for months-on-end due to a secret pregnancy! And given that Su Xiyan’s reputation had been linked to a passionately self-destructive Tianlang-Jun… Okay, he can feel the anti-fan rage at that mildly sexist line of thinking, but it stands! It stands!

Now, Shang Qinghua just has to… actually decide… whether or not he wants to take the point loss, in order to save the life of his protagonist son’s adoptive mother, Luo Jiahui.

Shang Qinghua, my darling fool of an Author God, your System is listening to the things you say and think.

I have been WORKING here to foreshadow where I’m going with this story. I’m pretty sure that every single endgame plot point has shown up and is now in play in PINTWILF. Shang Qinghua, due to situational awareness, is dealing with too much in-world shit to narrow things down easily, but it’s all there! It will hopefully not seem as though I’m pulling things out of nowhere in the next and final part (Part 4) of this fic.

“This makes me look crazy, bro,” Shang Qinghua complains to the System. “It really does. I already have to be careful about talking to the secret, world-controlling system that lives in my head and this? This is not making me look any more stable! Where did this come from? Where the fuck did I even get it?! ”

Oh, things are coming together in Shang Qinghua’s head and he doesn’t know if he really likes the picture. On one hand, it’s always nice to actually have someone or something to blame for things beyond the fucking System. On the other hand, he really doesn’t know how the fuck he’s supposed to sleep at night with a full-length, polished silver mirror with an ornate golden frame under his house.

AN: Shang Qinghua, have you noticed that you’ve stopped losing points for continuity errors and plot holes? Shang Qinghua, you know that the people in your life have noticed that you know too much. They’ve just decided not to question you about it because you always look like you’re going to faint when they do, then you laugh and change the subject.

But now Shen Qingqiu is on to you and he’s not so easy to shake.

(Plus Shen Yuan! They’re terriers, SQH!)

He turns away from the mirror, only for a second System window to pop up in front of him. Only… the design of this one is different. Familiar, though! It takes Shang Qinghua a second to place it as Peerless Cucumber- as Shen Yuan’s Transmigration System.

【 Users cannot be injured, killed, or trapped inside the looking-glass! The user will not be able to touch or be touched by anything inside the looking-glass! The user will be returned from the looking-glass within thirty minutes, unharmed! A substantial point reward is attached to this bonus mission. 】

“Right,” Shang Qinghua says.

This second pop-up window then shifts colors and is ruthlessly closed before his eyes. Ah, wow, Shang Qinghua kind of feels like he just saw someone get murdered here.

“...How many points?” he asks finally, reluctantly curious.

AN: Having the Systems fight is so much fun. My setup here in PINTWILF has it so that there’s a main Worldbuilding System that does its best to maintain the world, then each transmigrator has their own personal Transmigration System managing their case.

This is so the Worldbuilding System can maintain the world without the presence of transmigrators, and so the personal Systems can potentially follow their transmigrators into another world. All the Systems interact with each other in order to try to manage things and there are... issues.

Look, the thing about simulated (or managed) realities for me is... someone coded the thing (or did some equivalent of coding the thing), and whether or not this thing in question is the world or just the System, if there are multiple entities trying to manage things, there’s going to be fuck-ups. You can’t have two cooks in the kitchen without points where the two cooks get in each other’s way at least a little bit. If there are multiple Systems, then you’re going to have friction, and that friction can be funny.

Inspired by me trying to run two heavy art programs on my computer at once and being like, “Oh, boy, please don’t burst into flames while duking it out in there. Oh, man, you two were NOT made to operate together, huh?”

He knows he’s right when he walks away from some kind of important-looking procession, stepping into the next room at the same time as someone else, who looks directly at him and doesn’t look away. Shang Qinghua freezes in the doorway and doesn’t let himself stare so much as he can’t stop himself.

“Oh, no,” Shang Qinghua thinks.

There’s a man standing in front of him, tall and broad-shouldered, with an ageless youth, but a sharp gaze and no youthful roundness to his features. His curly black hair has been cursorily held back from his face by a golden ornament, but is otherwise loose, and he wears his ornate red and black robes well and correctly, but like a man with a hundred more.

The man flicks a strong hand at the doors behind Shang Qinghua, which slam shut with a bang, like he’s done this a thousand times before.

He smiles unkindly. “Shang-Shishu,” he says, like he’s tasting the title, considering tearing it apart with his teeth. “So it's true. How curious.”

There’s no way for Shang Qinghua to count how many times he’s seen this face before, but he’s never seen it like this. The man looks like an emperor. He looks like a god. The red mark of the Heavenly Demons burns like a crown in the middle of his forehead.

Shang Qinghua takes an unwilling step back.

“What are you afraid of?” the original Luo Binghe says, still smiling. “We’re only talking.”

AN: I tried to make this meeting mirror Shang Qinghua and Luo Binghe’s first scene in Part 3 of the fic, in which we finally meet the Luo Binghe (Shang Qinghua’s nephew) who is going to interact with the PIDW plot.

Excerpt from Chapter 18: “The Inevitable Plot”:

The restaurant is closed when Shang Qinghua lets himself in. The tables in the dining room are still packed up, lit by dim light through shuttered windows, and the only sign of another person are the chopping sounds coming from the brightness of the kitchen. Shang Qinghua stops in the doorway and lets himself stare.

There’s a young teenage boy standing at the counter, thirteen going on fourteen, still not yet near his adult height (taller than Shang Qinghua, a fact he's still not prepared to face), still carrying a youthful roundness to his features. Shang Qinghua has seen him like this a hundred times before: curly black hair tied back, a kerchief covering his head to keep it out of his eyes, a slightly yellowed matching apron neatly tied just the way his mother taught him, and intent on the work in front of him. His hands are quick, the knife sharp and sure, and the movements of food preparation work slide right into each other like he’s done this a thousand times before.

When did the boy get so big? It didn’t happen all at once; it snuck up on them, hiding dastardly in plain sight! Shang Qinghua remembers when his nephew barely came up to his waist. Fuck, Shang Qinghua remembers when his nephew couldn’t walk. What is this? Who allowed time to pass like this?

Luo Binghe scrapes the chopped vegetables off the board and into the basket beside him, before putting down the knife and turning around. He smiles.

There’s no way for Shang Qinghua to count how many times he’s seen that before.

“Uncle,” the protagonist says fondly. “You’re here.”

“Let’s talk,” Luo Binghe calls out, cajoling now. “Stop running and speak to me and perhaps old hurts can be forgiven. All that condonation and betrayal is so far in the past now. This lord can be merciful, Shang Qinghua. Just speak: how many things have you been hiding...?”

AN: This is PIDW Luo Binghe, by the way.

Once I realized I was going to have a room full of fortune-telling devices, I was like... “Ooh! Bing-Ge scene! I should have a Bing-Ge scene!” Because, like, that’s the curse of SVSSS transmigrator protagonists who trip into caring about Luo Binghe, baby!

Shang Qinghua takes some deep breaths to calm his poor, weak heart, and nearly falls to the floor anyway! But he catches himself!

And then a large, cold hand wraps around his arm to steady him. It’s the cold that keeps him from lashing out and probably breaking his own hand. Instead, he looks up, heart still pounding in his ears, into the frowning face of Mobei-Jun.

“Oh, you have the worst timing,” Shang Qinghua breathes.

Mobei-Jun’s expression twitches and he lets go.

“No!” Shang Qinghua chases the hand with his own, catching it before the man can get too far. “My king, I’m so glad to see you! Thank you for finally coming! I have so much to say,” he says quickly. “I-”

Before he realizes that he’s essentially holding Mobei-Jun’s hand for no reason now - ah, now that’s something he never would have dared to do like twenty years ago - and carefully drops it. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the panic still racing through his veins. And then promptly realizes that Mobei-Jun is here. The demon lord is here in this secret basement.

AN: Moshang in this fic is... hmmm... a little weird sometimes, because a lot of it has been happening in the background. A lot of it has been unspoken until Shang Qinghua’s breakdown and until now.

Shang Qinghua isn’t actually as scared of Mobei-Jun in this fic as he is in SVSSS, and I hope that comes across. When he had his breakdown, part of it was fear, but a large part of it was also actually anger. Shang Qinghua was afraid of how the System had changed his life, but he was also angry about this loss of control. Yes, he was terrified of Mobei-Jun because he didn’t know if it was still his Mobei-Jun, which brought lots of old memories and old anger to the surface, in which Shang Qinghua was kind of like, “How dare you think you get to freely touch me after the things you did and never apologized for?”

BUT the status quo in this world, before the World Update, is one in which Mobei-Jun touches Shang Qinghua’s hip without SQH flinching. It’s one in which SQH and MBJ drink and relax together. It’s one in which SQH isn’t afraid to reach out and grab MBJ’s hand, because he misses MBJ.

They’re so close, they just need to actually talk it out.

Shang Qinghua glances at the ladder and the open hole in the floor. “Ah, my king, did you… climb down here looking for me?”

“Yes,” Mobei-Jun answers, looking around with sharp eyes. He doesn’t seem to be very impressed with what he’s seeing. “...What is this place?”

“My, ah, my basement,” Shang Qinghua answers, leaving out the part where he didn’t even know he had one until about an hour ago. The System is determined to make him look like a bit of a madman, huh? “It’s just… just some artifacts and tools. I don’t… I don’t really come down here a lot…”

Mobei-Jun finishes studying the room, then stares at him again, his gaze more piercing than ever.

“The future concerns you this much?” he says.

Shang Qinghua is totally prepared to deny everything, but the phrasing of that cuts off every story he might try to tell. He glances around the room, full of these broken, desperate, stolen things. It’s… reflecting.

“...Yes,” he admits, hoarsely. Then coughs. “I… my king, we should… talk.”

“Yes,” Mobei-Jun agrees.

“But, ah, not here? I don’t… like it here.”

“Yes.”

AN: Mobei-Jun is one of the people who has noticed that Shang Qinghua knows more than he should. And now, thanks to this secret basement, Mobei-Jun has an explanation for why Shang Qinghua knows more than he should!

If you don’t know about the System element, then this basement is actually pretty in-character for the new Shang Qinghua of PINTWILF.

He is so scared of the future. He’s invested in the story now.

Shang Qinghua isn’t surprised at all when the special item speaks again as soon as it’s back in his hand.

Why would it shut up now, after all?

“He has no name but the position he has been promised to, which he may not live to see,” the Weeper’s Eye says, which pulls Shang Qinghua’s gaze back to the demon lord waiting for him. “His father uses him as a tool. His mother is long departed. His uncle wants him dead. He has long known that these broken promises cannot be undone… but he knows new promises may yet be made.”

Mobei-Jun is frowning at the crystal eye in Shang Qinghua’s hand, looking between it and Shang Qinghua’s own eyes.

He’s not dressed-up the same way he was the last time Shang Qinghua saw him - no especially fancy robes or ornaments or jewelry. He looks like himself this time.

“If these ones are not kept, there will be nothing for the nameless man who will be king.”

Shang Qinghua doesn’t move.

AN: I mentioned exploring Mobei-Jun not having a name in the commentary on the previous chapter. I guess that’s my take on PIDW Mobei-Jun... that the man doesn’t really have anything outside of his position. He’s a king, in service to a tyrant, and he’s never going to let anyone in. He’s just... cold... the whole way through. PIDW Mobei-Jun has an icy throne and nothing else.

PINTWILF (and SVSSS) Mobei-Jun has the Airplane version of Shang Qinghua. When Airplane saved MBJ’s life, the System wasn’t making him do it, he made that choice for himself. The System was willing to let MBJ die (and, in my headcanon, be replaced by some ice demon cousin or LGJ). So, MBJ turns around and chooses Shang Qinghua for himself.

Shang Qinghua was like, “No! This character can’t be replaced! You can’t just dress someone else up as Mobei-Jun! You can’t just let the character die! It has to be this man in that role! No one else!”

When Mobei-Jun is coming to talk to Shang Qinghua in this fic, in this moment, he is making this choice for himself, the nameless man who has been promised a position he might not live to see. That’s what the Weeper’s Eye is getting at. If Shang Qinghua doesn’t want to hear the promises Mobei-Jun is will to make him, there might as well not be anything in Mobei-Jun’s future to make him an individual, more than a cold figure acting out a part.

“...Shang Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun says finally. “I will not hurt you.”

Shang Qinghua’s gaze snaps from the crystal eye in his hand, back to the demon lord standing by the exit to this secret basement.

“We will speak,” Mobei-Jun says solemnly, slowly, like someone repeating the lines of a script. “I wish to be understood by you. I have not known how. Yet I must try now… in my own words… and you must listen.”

Shang Qinghua swallows.

The anger - the frustration - breaking through at the end there sounds more like the man he knows. He’s pretty sure that’s meant to be a request, but it sounds like an order.

AN: After their last conversation, Mobei-Jun had a lot of soul-searching to do, and one of the conclusions he came to is that he can’t take anything for granted. He has to made explicitly clear, using words, which is apparently what matters with humans and with this human in particular, everything he feels. He can’t take the risk of continuing to hurt Shang Qinghua by letting the man think that he doesn’t regret hurting him or may hurt him again someday.

He puts the Weeper’s Eye down.

He’s really sick of this thing. He doesn't want to carry it around all the time.

It only tells him things he knows, anyway.

AN: We’ll get into the Weeper’s Eye in future chapters, but it’s... it’s not really a mind-reading device. It kind of is. It is a little bit. But part of the reason it’s so informative here is that Shang Qinghua is holding it and Shang Qinghua actually knows a lot about his characters and the people in his life.

Even the original characters, like Fanli, he knows well. She’s his family. He’s privy to Fanli’s problems through Jiahui and Liu Qingge if nothing else.

With Shen Yuan, he doesn’t know the kid well yet, but his fellow transmigrator isn’t that difficult to read and he’s been where Shen Yuan is.

Shang Qinghua putting the Weeper’s Eye down here is a show of trust of sorts. It’s a way of telling himself to get out of his own head, away from character roles and exaggerated panic, and put himself in the moment with someone he knows and... well... trusts and wants to trust even more.

Shang Qinghua follows Mobei-Jun out of the basement, removing the spiritual seal from the wall, which makes the creepy basement entrance disappear, then replacing the flower that covered it. He hesitantly follows the demon lord back to the main room of his Leisure House. He has no idea how to stand, suddenly, or where to stand.

Mobei-Jun looks very determined.

“So, ah, should we… sit?”

“No,” Mobei-Jun replies, then abruptly says, “Shang Qinghua, you do not have to fear me. I do not wish to cause you any pain. Now or in the future.”

Shang Qinghua stares, wide-eyed.

That’s not… something he ever expected to hear explicitly.

Good! It's good, though! Very good.

It's great, really.

“...Thank you,” he says, stunned. “I don’t want to cause you pain either?”

“You have shown as much. Many times.”

This is probably not the time for an “Yes, I did tell you so” in any form!

Instead, trying to remember all the speeches he prepared while waiting, Shang Qinghua says, “You have too! In your own way! I just… my king, last time you visited was a… it was a very bad day for me. I apologize for my behavior! I was speaking from a place of-”

“Fear,” Mobei-Jun interrupts darkly. “Well-deserved.”

“Ah, well…”

“You believed that I would hurt you, in your state,” Mobei-Jun says.

“I was… it was very a bad and confused state, my king.”

“...You do not trust me.”

Shang Qinghua’s voice dries up on him. He wouldn’t put it that way, exactly! That sounds pretty terrible when said in such a blunt way. They’ve moved past that, haven’t they? It’s more that he trusts different people with different things! He trusts Luo Jiahui to be Luo Jiahui, and Liu Qingge to be Liu Qingge, and Mobei-Jun… to be Mobei-Jun.

AN: Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun got really far without explicitly talking about things, but at some point that stopped cutting it.

“I have hurt you before,” Mobei-Jun says, looking at him directly. “From a place of fear… of anger… of… misunderstanding. I am… sorry for this. I will not do so again. I was wrong to treat you in such a way.”

Shang Qinghua takes in a deep breath… and out again.

Fuck, it feels like his eyes are burning.

“You have my respect,” Mobei-Jun says quietly, urgently, not letting up on getting all of these words out into the open. “You have my regard. You have my trust. Yet I have not shown this in a way that you have understood, so you could not share this. I have demanded your loyalty without being deserving of it.”

“My king,” Shang Qinghua protests, taking a step forward. “I was- I should have said-”

“You did. Many times. In many ways. I did not understand.”

“I wasn’t very clear either-”

“It was my responsibility to be clear. I must be clear now.”

“You’re being very clear now,” Shang Qinghua agrees quickly. If things get any clearer here, if any more of the things they’ve left unspoken get said, his heart won’t be able to take it. “Thank you, my king. It means- thank you."

Mobei-Jun nods. He looks relieved.

AN: I wanted to write a version of Moshang that felt... a little more mature? Shang Qinghua has developed a lot in this fic. He has grown as a person. And Mobei-Jun has seen this growth over the years.

Mobei-Jun has also been able to see into this Shang Qinghua in a way that wasn’t available in SVSSS canon. I think that SVSSS Shang Qinghua was locked the fuck down. I think he was almost completely inaccessible and offered very, very few openings for connection.

But in this universe, Mobei-Jun actually knows a lot more about Shang Qinghua. He knows what motivates Shang Qinghua. He knows that Shang Qinghua is a doting uncle and a doting older brother. He knows that Shang Qinghua has come to care for his sect. He knows that Shang Qinghua is intelligent and resourceful and funny. They drink together and talk politics! Mobei-Jun knows that Shang Qinghua is loyal and tired and trustworthy.

So... there was an opening here that didn’t exist in SVSSS canon.

And Mobei-Jun took it.

Shang Qinghua knows that cultural differences are a hell of a thing here, but everything being understandable in hindsight didn't make it not fucking hurt. It still hurts, even finally having the apology he never thought he'd get.

"...We’ve been pretty bad at understanding each other, huh?”

“It has often seemed as though we were not meant to meet,” the demon lord says softly.

Shang Qinghua, who can't imagine getting through his transmigration experience without meeting this man, thinks over all the unknowing irony in that statement.

"...Maybe."

“The differences are… significant.”

Shang Qinghua laughs, almost disbelieving. “That’s a word for it!”

"But not impassable."

"Ah… I… hope not."

AN: I’ll probably make a separate post for this, but I love Moshang transmigrator reveals. Bingqiu transmigrator reveals are mostly about the Abyss, which is great, because that needs clearing up. MOSHANG transmigrator reveals are like, “My weak human husband is a god???”

Also love it when MBJ is like, “Yes, this makes sense.”

“I have never known what you have wanted from me,” Mobei-Jun says next, like a confession. “Your life, you have said, time and time again. Though I am only alive by your grace. You demand none of what you deserve of me.”

“...I don’t think ‘deserve’ is a good word for this,” Shang Qinghua says, which probably isn’t the right thing to say, but he’s really too stunned to come up with anything better. He really didn’t prepare for the right conversation here. “Aha, sorry, my king. It’s just… I don’t think I like to think about it in terms of ‘owing’ anymore. Between us. At least… not like some sort of strict balance? I do something nice for you, you owe me. You do something bad to me, I get to hurt you. Not… not like that.”

Mobei-Jun thinks about it.

“Sorry, I don’t really know what I’m saying-”

“You are deserving of better than what I have given you,” Mobei-Jun insists, determinedly. “I do not understand you. I have never understood you.”

Shang Qinghua feels the same way.

“But I would like to,” Mobei-Jun says next. “I would if you would allow it.”

AN: Mobei-Jun is only alive because Shang Qinghua saved him and he knows it! And Shang Qinghua has never made the demands he should have made, having that kind of leverage over Mobei-Jun!

I’ve always wondered if this is deeply romantic by demon standards. Like, not inherently romantic. But I would bet that Mobei-Jun really likes the idea of a relationship where no one is keeping score... no one is granting favors to use like a leash of obligation... no one owes the other things they don’t want to give. I would bet that Mobei-Jun really, really likes the idea of a relationship where affection is freely given because the people in it want to give it.

He does feel as though he owes Shang Qinghua, but I think Mobei-Jun likes the idea that his favor is his to give just because he wants to give it.

Mobei-Jun lifts a hand, slowly, and holds it out.

Shang Qinghua thinks about it.

He thinks about it again.

He reaches back and puts his hand in Mobei-Jun’s own, which is as cool to the touch as always, and moves over his skin carefully. His hold is so light that Shang Qinghua could break it without any issue at all.

They stay there, like that, looking at each other.

Looking at their hands, holding without hurting, after everything. It's such a small gesture.

It feels kind of like a miracle.

AN: I am... a huge fucking sucker for Mobei-Jun holding Shang Qinghua waaaaay too lightly because he won’t risk hurting Shang Qinghua again. Like, this man is going to take it from the top. No more assumptions.

“What do you want, Shang Qinghua?” Mobei-Jun says, voice turning up at the end, in the closest thing that the man might ever come to helplessness. “What do you want from this?”

“I…” Shang Qinghua wipes at his burning eyes with his free hand. This is kind of pitiful. “Fuck.”

Mobei-Jun lifts his free hand and uses his own sleeve to wipe at Shang Qinghua’s tears, like his robes aren’t important to him at all. “Ask,” the man says, in the tone of a promise. “You do not have to fear the future. Anything I have to give is yours.”

Shang Qinghua gives up on trying to speak and just moves forward to bury his face in Mobei-Jun’s chest. Fuck it. The demon lord who was supposed to kill his character lets him do it. Mobei-Jun holds on to him, arms heavy but still so careful, the man’s chest moving in a sigh that sounds like relief.

This really was too many unspoken things to finally say aloud all at once.

AN: So, yeah! That’s what I’m been building up to with the Jiahui/Qingge marriage and the Qijiu fights and makeup, getting Shang Qinghua to think about what he wants from his relationship with Mobei-Jun. Luo Jiahui and Shen Qingqiu have basically been throwing the question at him repeatedly: “What do you want from this life, Shang Qinghua?”

Because it can’t all be plot! You’ve taken your family for yourself, but you can have more than that! You’ve made so many choices already... you can take this last step and make this choice too. Let Mobei-Jun in.

A lot of Moshang plots end up being “Shang Qinghua’s inability to communicate versus Mobei-Jun’s inability to communicate”. Which is great! That’s Moshang! And some external issue (a rival demon lord, Linguang-Jun, etc.) will end up being the secondary plot which acts as a scenario pusher for the primary plot of the Moshang relationship. Again, great stuff!

But since the romance isn’t the focus of this fic, I decided it would be fun to have a more “Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun versus the problem” take. (Which also shows up in lots of Moshang fics! Definitely not exclusive to this fic at all!) I’m looking forward to having Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun actually try and tackle problems together, as a couple, inside the main “Family of Choice” plot.

Which isn’t to say that Moshang have totally worked out their relationship here. They have only just gotten together. Mobei-Jun still has issues. Shang Qinghua still has many issues. They’ve got a lot to work out together. They’ve never been in a relationship like this before and there’s a lot of people out there who would object to their relationship! Their relationship is going to continue to grow as the fic continues. They’re going to have a few bumps in the road.

But I really like the idea of Mobei-Jun being Shang Qinghua’s rock in this fic. This man has been so stressed. He needs a hug from his ice demon boyfriend who can soothe headaches with a hand.

When Shang Qinghua feels like he has himself more under control, he draws back just far enough to say, “My king, will you kiss me?”

Mobei-Jun’s expression is already soft, at least by his standards. His gaze turns hooded before he leans down as Shang Qinghua leans up. Shang Qinghua takes the man’s face between his hands to kiss him. It feels nice, if uncertain, with the hunger of something a long time coming at the end of it. There's years worth of wanting in this.

It has been so fucking long since Shang Qinghua kissed anyone.

He breaks the kiss and has to stifle laughter, clinging to the front of Mobei-Jun’s robes, which the man never closes properly, so now Shang Qinghua is never going to be able to not thinking about touching it. It’s a very nice chest to touch. He knew it would be.

Mobei-Jun’s brow furrows slightly, his hands staying on Shang Qinghua’s hips.

“What?”

Ah, sorry! Sorry, my king! It’s just- this is such a ridiculous detail to get stuck on, but your lips are kind of cold? I’ve, ah, I’ve always kind of wondered,” Shang Qinghua confesses quietly, without really meaning to actually say it. Holy shit, he’s going to blame saying something like this after that on the fact that he’s had a very long and very weird day. “Sorry. I'm really tired. It's fine. It's good.”

Mobei-Jun snorts and kisses him again, as if to say, “Deal with it.”

AN: Cute! Mobei-Jun likes it when Shang Qinghua laughs. I stand by this.

#tossawary svsss #tossawary commentary #pride is not the word #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua

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2am-theswifthour · 4 years

Text

The 8 Theory-Folklore’s Commentary on Youth

Yesterday, I took note of @taylorswift and her careful attention to the number 8.

“Not a lot going on at the moment” had 8 words. The 8th track is “august,” which is also the 8th month in the year. She has 8 deluxe editions of her album. Many attributed this to Folklore being Taylor’s 8th album. I thought it meant either a.) we needed to pay very close attention to track #8 or b.) that 8 references infinity, a.k.a “forever and ever.”

To my surprise, I was actually selling Taylor Swift short.

When listening to the album, there’s a lot of back and forth in emotion and circumstance. I was confused about the order, especially when the strikingly sobering “hoax” followed the self-aware almost-tranquility of “peace.” Then it hit me. There are two schools of thought going on.

There are 16 tracks on Folklore (excluding the bonus track none of us have heard). 16/2=8. This means there are 2 equal emotional song threads on the album. In other words, you can get two drastically different lessons listening to each group of 8.

When you separate the even numbered tracks from the odd numbered tracks you get the following:

Odd

the 1

the last great american dynasty

my tears ricochet

seven

this is me trying

invisible string

epiphany

peace

Even

cardigan

exile

mirrorball

august

illicit affairs

mad woman

betty

hoax

Odd Interpretation:

Starting with “the 1” and “the last great american dynasty,” the lyrics are very upfront in showing that the protagonists are making fully intentioned mistakes. “the 1” says, “in my defense, I have none for never leaving well enough alone” (I see you “ME!” reference). In “the last great American dynasty” it says, “she had a marvelous time ruining everything.” These characters’ folly is their youth-induced selfishness. They’re casual in the harm they cause because they distance themselves from it. They’re fine with what they don’t look at closely. When you’re young, you make a mess of things in service of YOUR need. Your need for companionship. Your need for the thrill of danger. Your need to make your mark, to be somebody, to leave something behind. The marvel of the excitement and the chase and the very vitality of teens to 20-somethings’ shenanigans blinds us to the scale of our destruction…

…until you have no choice but to face the consequences of your recklessness.

The next track, “my tears ricochet” is not your average track 5. It functions as a pivoting point. Now our narrator is the hurt party, the one baring the brunt of callous treatment. Fickle mistreatment is no longer so casual. Now it’s a torment, and the tormentor learns the scale of their damage. So much so, that they get burned too. They learned their lesson at a terrible price, but what’s most important is that they learned.

“seven” is a long-overlooked memory revisited. In this picture of naïve innocence, the narrator tells of their childish belief in the impossible. Through magic and play pretend and fantasy they are invincible. They have all the control in the world to control the world they live in. Obviously, this is a flawed perspective that everyone eventually grows out of. Fairy tales don’t solve real problems. The point is that their sense of self-importance is in service of a stronger moral compass than the first two songs. If we accept our responsibility to others, to do what we can to ensure their welfare, are we not better and more satisfied people for it?

“this is me trying” hears that lesson and attempts to walk the walk. Part of being responsible to your fellow human is taking accountability when you fumble. The narrator doesn’t know what to say or how to make it right. What they do know is that they’re here, they’ve put the bottle down, and that they’re willing to try what’s necessary to heal what they’ve hurt.

“invisible string” gives us the reward we’ve been waiting for. The narrator says, “cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart, now I send their babies presents.” This is someone who has gone from lashing out in anger at a partner from a burned relationship to genuinely wishing them well in their next stage in life. It’s a powerful testament when you can recognize that youth drives us all to make hurtful decisions and that no one is immune to change if they truly want to change. When you let the anger and lies go, the strings that tied you to them fade away. All that’s left is the string you want to hold onto. The string tied to the one who matters, because you’ve made the conscious decision to deduce that their worth as a person should equal yours. It’s a painful path to traverse through, but when you do it’s all worthwhile. That’s why the narrator can say with confidence “hell was the journey but it brought me to heaven.”

In any other album, a song like “invisible string” would be the quintessential emotional payoff for this story arc. However, because this album is a masterpiece, we have a different payoff point in “epiphany.” “epiphany” takes us out of the world of a romantic relationship. We hear descriptions of war and nurses dealing with the despair of this international pandemic. This point in this emotional thread is that it powerfully declares it’s not enough to do no harm nor is it enough to just empathize with your romantic partner. You MUST show your responsibility to your fellow man. Stand beside them. Empathize with them. See them as whole human beings. Do good by them. In other words, it is our duty to do right by everyone, for everyone bleeds, loves, and dies.

The 8-song selection ends with “peace.” The song begins by saying that their, “coming-of-age” has come and gone.” I believe this (along with “invisible string”) to be the most overtly “Taylor Swift” track in perspective. This is her speaking as herself. She lets us know that she’s grown through taking her mistakes, and the mistakes she learned through folklore, into account. She is overly aware of her flaws and feels she pales in comparison to her partner. Rather than allow those insecurities to manifest in unchecked rage or resentment, she takes it as a challenge for herself to do better. She knows she can never give him complete peace (due to inside and outside factors), but she can make the choice to give him unselfish promises and embrace the entirety of her partner’s life. This is a person who has learned the value of selflessness in love and life, which makes this whole thread worth everything.

Even Interpretation:

“cardigan” foreshadows the eventual failure of the even path. The odd interpretation I just described culminated in the narrator finding their place with “the one” because they’ve left everything petty and casually cruel behind. In “cardigan” it says “chase two girls, lose the one.” On top of this directly referencing the first track, it also implies the partner’s self-destruction. By toying with two girls, James is losing “the one.” I don’t think losing “the one” means that you keep one of the two of them. I think it means that engaging in that kind of behavior makes you into a person that isn’t ready, or worthy, of “the one” that they are meant to be with forever. Meeting and keeping “the one” has to require each partner to love themselves and their partner wholly, truly, and selflessly. They can’t be a cardigan you pick up and only wear on the weekends. They must be a wholehearted commitment.

“exile” shows the blowout from “cardigan.” The two couldn’t stay together, and Bon Iver’s (character’s) toxicity comes out full force. He thinks her new man is lesser than him. He’s prepared to throw punches despite being at fault over a hundred times. He’s seen the film before, and he didn’t like the ending because it didn’t work out for him. He wants her under his thumb, not having learned from his prior relationships that that just can’t work. They leave out the side doors, neither fully ready to confront the problems head on.

“mirrorball” is daring in its shift of focus. While all of the tracks I’ve mentioned thus far have dealt, in some way, with the problems that result from a young person’s selfishness, this song doesn’t do that. This song illustrates an extreme that young people participate in at the opposite end of the spectrum; radical selflessness. To be selfless means that you should never allow something that harms someone else to happen just because it benefits you. Young people, girls in particular, are often groomed to interpret selflessness differently. Their definition is synonymous with accommodation. Change your looks, change your personality, don’t object, and embody what your partner wants so that they’re happy. That’s why the symbol is the mirrorball in the song. It reflects everything in the room but itself. By explicitly not factoring in their own sense of self-respect in a relationship, they are unknowingly and tragically enabling their partner’s mistreatment. To be clear, that doesn’t mean abuse is their fault if they have low self-esteem. It’s not, even remotely. But not having the capacity to defend your self-worth is what keeps so many drawn into toxic relationships there for so long. This radical selflessness manifests itself in the other woman too. In “august” it explicitly says that she was living on the, “hope of it all” and that she would cancel plans in the name of a potential hookup with someone who was never hers. The idea of radical selflessness culminates in “illicit affairs” when one of the women deals with their addictive compulsion toward someone who treats them like a cheap lay. Their relationship is a secret that leaves her feeling used in parking lots and as though any trace of her is gone. These three songs have taken the desperate hopelessness of “Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind” to the extreme.

Many have speculated that “mad woman” is a commentary on the Taylor/Scooter conflict and I’m inclined to agree. However, if I were to assign an interpretation that goes with my theory, I would say that “mad woman” details the unforeseen consequences of a tormentor’s abuse. When a toxic partner performs bad behavior, their expectation is that they will always be found in the right. After all, Taylor noted on her previous album that for men, “everyone believes [them].” So in the face of lies about her character that everyone believes, she gets rightfully angry. Her anger is their affirmation. For many, a woman being angry on her own behalf is “crazy” and “irrational.” What kind of a society have we set up? A society that promotes women to lack self-worth and, should they find it, they’ll meet a whole other exile.

“betty” is our complete look into James’ perspective. On its own, it sounds like a big romantic gesture to get behind. However, this path is very clear to put “cardigan” first. “cardigan” says, “I knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired and you’d be standin’ in my front porch light.” Lo and behold, in “betty” he shows up to her party when she doesn’t want to see him and asks if she would, “kiss [him] on the porch in front of all [her] stupid friends.” It’s an absolute punch in the gut. Betty knows in “cardigan” that he would come back after he had his fun with another girl, but that she would take him back when he saw momentary value in her again. James in “betty” claims he didn’t know anything, but that’s just an excuse. He knew what he was doing, he knew that he would be able to pick up her broken pieces with ease, he knew he could isolate her from her friends, and he knew that he could capture the imperfect “comfort” of that cardigan again.

This path ends in the final even-numbered song, “hoax.” In the odd numbers, “peace” shows a lesson learned. This even path shows what happens when we don’t learn. The seeds of youth-driven mistakes have led us here. The narrator wants nothing outside the pain of this faithless love. Without learning what it means to be selfless, the traumas of these young relationships create a never-ending cycle. The narrator knows that the “love” is a “hoax” but doesn’t care because that’s all they have. There’s no point to wanting anything else. Without the perspective of age, of truly going beyond that, they’re stuck in a truly dark place.

Final Thoughts:

Taylor Swift is an exceptional artist for a lot of reasons. No one makes albums this good this far into their career. Most artists teeter off after two or three because they retread. Their audience inevitably gets bored of them e same thing time and again. Repeating themselves is something that a lot of artists do because they want to go with the formula of what works. With Folklore, Taylor has done what few artists have dared to do. She’s allowed her discography as a place to uncompromisingly expand her worldview and challenge her listeners. She’s not reiterating previous lessons to make another quick sale. Instead, every album prior has been a steppingstone. As she said at the Time 100 Gala, she has truly turned her lessons into her legacy. From a variety of narrators, she has brought what I decree to be her best album to date. This wouldn’t happen for anyone else 8 albums into their career, but she’s done it by devoutly embracing age’s wisdom.

Learn from the highs and lows presented in these paths. As all good folklore does, it teaches us how to live better. It is our duty to live selflessly and with self-assured dignity. These writings, I have no doubt, will become integral to the legend that is Taylor Alison Swift.

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scarlett-hamiltonf1 · 3 years

Note

Smut w lewis hamilton please

Love is in the air and not even Lewis Hamilton himself is immune to it. Y/N Wolff is Toto's only child and a common face in the paddock. You are the mastermind behind the social media account and love to keep fans on their toes. Along with that profession, you ran a Public Relations company that contracted with F1 and most of the team used you along with many high-profile clients. With your father's knack for investing, you soon became extremely wealthy and successful.

Your life has revolved around racing for a long time. Of course, when your father took the reins at Mercedes you decided to stand by him even though you supported Redbull. Oh yeah, You and Max Verstappen are best buddies after the drivers got used to seeing you in the paddock all the time.

Everyone knew you as a really chill and friendly person, but the one driver you could not get along with was Lewis Hamilton. You publicly took Nico Rosberg's side in the conflict between the two and from there it went downhill. So here you are at the German Grand Prix watching Lewis meet Michael Schumacher's record. Something you had mixed feelings on.

"He's done it." Toto chuckled, while you huffed.

You wrapped your warm Mercedes jacked around you tighter. "Good for him," you muttered.

Your father looked up with a smirk. "You used to idolize Lewis, remember all the autographs you have framed in your trophy room back at home."

Your trophy room. The room held all your trophies from when you did Karting with the newer drivers. Your favorite was when you tied with Mick at a race, and your father's got in an argument over who really won. In the end, you and Mick decided that you would share the trophy and to this day every six months you take turns with it. Your second favorite was the first WDC Lewis ever won. He gave it to you, for your sixteenth birthday, six years ago.

"Maybe I did idolize him when I was a teen, but knowing him has proved nothing but he's just another rich arrogant F1 driver."

Toto laughed at you while giving you a side hug. "Well, let's go meet the champ and do our interviews."

You followed your father through the paddock to the podium where you met up with Mick.

"Hey, Mickie Mouse!" You exclaimed.

"Hey, Wolff!" he replied with a bright smile.

You basically grew up with Mick, and his family considered you an honorary Schumacher.

"Wanna go up with me?"

You looked over to your father who gave you an encouraging nod, so you followed Mick up to the podium. When you got to the door leading out to the podium someone stopped you and placed the first place trophy in your hands.

There was no time for you to protest as you and Mick were pushed onto the podium stage. You smiled brightly as the cameras landed on you.

Mick whispered a joke to you, to make sure you smile knowing you didn't like being in the direct spotlight for long periods of time...like now.

You stood behind Mick while he talked with Lewis before MIck stepped aside and let you walk forward with the trophy.

"Congratulations," You whispered to Lewis. "You deserve it."

Lewis smiled brightly at you. "Thank you Y/N." and he held out an arm to give you a hug.

You leaned is slowly and soon felt yourself wrapping your arms around Lewis's warm body. His scent seemed to draw you in closer as you felt like you were right where you belonged.

"Forgive me?" he asked while holding up his pinky.

You locked your pinky in his while smirking. "Let's get through this interview, and then we'll see," I replied.

The two of you split from Mick and went to an interview with Will Buxton. He already had a bit of a mischievous look on his face.

"Probably one of the strongest rivalries in the paddock, Y/N Wolff and Lewis Hamilton joining us," Will announced. "That hug up on the podium, was it coming to a truce?"

You chuckled. "I have a bit of respect for Lewis."

"Perhaps you need to learn to give more, Y/N." he quipped with a smirk causing me to look at him funny.

You smirked. "Would you excuse us for a second...I'm about to go save a few reputations," you replied before dragging Lewis to the Mercedes garage and into his driver's room.

"What' the hell!" he exclaimed.

"Teach me some respect? That's really classy Hamilton."

Lewis rolled his eyes before pushing your body into the wall and attaching his soft lips to yours. Your brain and body were telling you no, but your heart was saying otherwise.

"You've been in love with me for a long time." He whispered in my ear. "All I thought about was waiting in till you were eighteen to do this."

"I'm not in love with you!" you snapped.

Lewis dug his knee between your legs while rubbing against your throbbing clit.

"It is time you learn to respect a six-time world champion, soon to be seven." He stated. "But first...I need your permission."

You rolled your eyes. "I doubt you could do anything to make me respect you more, but I give you my permission."

With your words, Lewis through you onto the couch while stripping both your clothes off. He made sure to let you know, you were just there for the ride and had no control over the situation whatsoever.

For someone who was always controlling the drivers and trying to keep them from causing too much drama, you weren't used to being told what to do and not being the controlling one.

Lewis was quick to put a small kiss on your bundle of nerves before licking a long strip on your clit, causing you to elicit a soft moan, trying to be quiet as there were people in the vicinity.

"Lewis..." you breathed out, mouth agape as he sucked, bit, and licked your throbbing clit, already aching for a release.

You grabbed his curls harshly as you felt a bubbling sensation began to grow.

Suddenly there was a pounding on the door and Lewis pulled away harshly.

"Who is it?"

"Max, I'm looking for Y/N. She promised to go for a drive with me on the track." Max replied.

Lewis huffed. "Well, if I see her I'll tell her you were looking for her. Honestly, she's probably dealing with the press about my number of wins."

"Humble." I hear Max mutter in dutch. "Well, thanks! Congratulations again!"

Lewis turned back to me while I burst out laughing. A few moments later he began laughing as well.

"I think Max was divine intervention telling us this is wrong," Lewis stated and I agreed.

You smiled up at Lewis. "When you're off racing, I want you to remember that there's always one person rooting for you, who never stopped."

Lewis smiled as we got dressed, "To our graves?" he asked holding up his pinky.

"To our graves." I smirked.

Bonus:

You walked through the paddock to the Redbull garage. Max was waiting there with a nice Aston Martin, with a huge smirk on his face.

"So how long are you going to keep pretending you and Lewis aren't dating?"

I shrugged. "It's nice leading everyone on to think we hate each other, even my father."

Max raised a brow.

"I wouldn't be so sure, given Lewis bought a pent house in the same building as you, probably more than a coincidence." a voice send from behind you and you turned to see your father.

"Dad?" You exclaimed.

"Nor is it a coincidence that you have that ring around your neck!" he pointed out.

Well, there's the end to your little charade. You and Lewis started dating when you turned 18 but wanted to keep it a secret so you pretended not to like each other. You were even engaged, but you had been found out. Now you'll have to deal with your father, but that was for another day.

#lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton #smut #f1 #formula 1 #mercedes f1 #max verstappen #toto wolff

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undertaker1827 · 4 years

Note

Undertaker headcanons from the late 19th century (1889) to the present day with an S / O that is also immortal. Just cute things about how they would have fun and a relationship that would really be "forever" (I'm a little obsessed with eternal romances with immortal creatures, sorry XD)

Aww that’s such a sweet idea, don’t apologise!! Here you go, hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Alright people sit down and buckle up we start in the Victorian era

Undertaker is doing just that, lowkey experimenting on the dead and the like as well but we’re ignoring that for now

You’re absolutely not working as a servant in some lord’s house, equally you probably can’t quite get up into high society given Undertaker’s occupation, likely somewhere in the middle

To be honest, you probably ended up involved in the Phantomhives’ underground network and you are more than capable of working the system so you can be accepted equally by both London’s high society and the working classes

The mortician deals with people from all walks of life and you regularly interact with them so it’s hardly surprising

During this time, the two of you would eat out as much as possible , just to experience the class divide from both ends

The funeral parlour isn’t in the best part of London, so you went to the local pub one night for dinner and a drink

The atmosphere was positively alive, the people inside loud and buzzing with warm energy despite the winter cold trying to deep in through the windows

You had a basic meal of chicken and vegetable broth, sat at a table just off the corner of the bar

The place might have smelt of alcohol but the people sat at another table playing music more than made up for it

There was a violinist, a singer and a flute player, all producing jigs, country music and the best old songs, the kind the two of you hadn’t heard in a good few years

Alternately, Undertaker took you out to the fanciest, most expensive restaurant London had to offer

You didn’t even know where he got the money from

He wore a sleek black top hat and tails, hair drawn back and hidden away for once

A crisp white shirt and a red tie, polished black loafers and you wearing your finest

You lost track of how many courses you ate, lost in the small orchestra playing exquisite music from the front

Undertaker had reserved the best table they had to offer and ultimately spared no expense

Afterwards, you decided that whilst the experiences were polar opposites, you had enjoyed both for entirely different reasons

Moving on to the early 1900’s, the industrial revolution was a scream for you both

Picture the most ridiculous, steampunk-looking ‘automated vehicle’ you can, complete with the crazy lights on the front and the carriage wheels, chugging out black smoke

Undertaker had one

It was such a wild thing to invent that he just couldn’t resist

You were the talk of his part of London, specifically how the ‘unusual’ mortician has managed to afford one was of great debate among the gossips

Of course, you two sat on the sidelines and watched it all unfold, grinning like mad people and never giving out any information

You did make the occasional comment though, only to stir the pot and confuse everyone even further

Your favourite memory of that car had to be when you chugged over Westminster bridge in it, the mortician tipping his hat while you just nodded at the pavement full of top hats who halted what they were doing to watch you go by

You laughed for ages after that one

It couldn’t last forever though, and when the First World War came, it was as hard on the two of you as any

Undertaker seemed always to be working during those four years, the list of casualties endless

You helped him wherever you could, devoting the rest of your time to helping out at the local shelter, nursing when the hospitals were being overrun

You would both pass information along the underground as well, anything to end the death and destruction

The Second World War passed in much the same way, though now there seemed to be even less time to rest

You would stand and quietly hold each other on the long nights when it all seemed endless, listening to Churchill over the radio and trying to not get too down

The next little while passed by uneventfully really - everyone was trying to recover from the after effects of the fighting and the Cold War was in full flow

When it got to the 50’s and 60’s though, things started looking up once more

You lost count of the number of dances you went to with the mortician, each of which he invited you to in a most gentlemanly manner

Eventually you invited him to a few, though he jokingly complained each time that he should be the one to ask you

Undertaker’s slow dances went unrivalled, both at events and whilst you were alone in the parlour

Those were your favourites, gazing lovingly into his phosphorescent eyes, glowing softly in the half dark as he smiled back at you

He would hold your body to his as close as possible, keeping you flush together whilst still moving to the music

He would have an arm securely around your waist, far too much contact for the dance you were doing but you had no complaints

When it got late and dark and you were still stepping around each other, you would lay your head on his shoulder and his hand would move automatically to your hair, ever so softly combing back through it and nails caressing your scalp so masterfully that it took far more effort than it should have done to stay awake

He knew that of course and would grin, wasting no time in sitting down somewhere with you in his lap, whispering sweet nothings until your eyes did finally close, albeit against your will

You would smile in the morning when you woke up in bed, but still wrapped tightly in the mortician’s embrace

Moving swiftly onto the 70’s, I just want to say if you don’t think Undertaker could disco with the best of them, you are so wrong

He’s a fabulous dancer, no matter what the era or style and there wasn’t the move he didn’t know

You would often catch him dancing away to the pop songs over the radio or on the little TV you two had purchased

When he saw you, not only would he not stop but he would grab you and get you to start dancing with him

The reaper took full advantage of the fashion for flares and all things day glow, mismatching neon socks worn proudly

And of course if this wasn’t the era of the best comedy movies

You went to the movie theatre to see all of them, got them on DVD and ultimately there wasn’t a single reference that went over your head

It was also impossible to pick your favourite

From then on, the two of you really just watched fashions and trends progress into the ones we know now

He has a black hearse of course, but not your average one

It’s all sharp angles and gleaming chrome, a skull pendent hanging off the rear view

When it’s Halloween season, he puts a skeleton in the back so others can see it through the back window

The tech side of things is definitely a bonus, phones are just convenient and there’s so much media (films, music) you can never get bored

You’ve been to festivals together, fringe all the way

Undertaker teleported you to the front when your favourite band came on; it was the best thing

He even hoisted you up on his shoulders at one point and when you waved at the lead singer, they waved back

You have a collection of memorabilia from all of them, not to mention all the concerts you’ve been to together

You have literally hundreds of photo albums, dating right back to when cameras were first invented

At the time, nobody could work out how you got a camera either

Undertaking itself hasn’t changed that much over the years of course and the mortician still lives and works in the same place as he always has

You asked him about it once

He said he’d been there so long by now that he couldn’t imagine going anywhere else, wouldn’t even know where to start

He asked you to move in not too long ago and given how much time you already spent at his place, you agreed

You spent your first night there wrapped firmly in the mortician’s arms, laying on his chest rather than a pillow and held securely under his covers

You were curled around each other with as much contact as you could muster and got all the better night’s sleep for it

#undertaker #adrian crevan #undertaker x reader #undertaker x reader fluff #adrian crevan x reader #black butler x reader #black butler #black butler undertaker x reader #undertaker black butler #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji #black butler reader inserts #kuroshitsuji undertaker x reader #kuroshitsuji undertaker

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sgt-paul · 4 years

Photo

Photo by Mary McCartney.

→ To start with the most obvious question, a lot of people will be thinking why now for McCartney III?

It was kind of unintentional. I had to go into the studio at the beginning of lockdown to do a couple of bits of music for an animated short film. So I got in and did that bit of work and sent it off to the director, and then I thought, ‘Oh, this is nice, I’m enjoying this, this is a nice way to spend lockdown,’ so I ended up finishing off some songs, looking at bits and bobs, making up stuff, and generally enjoying myself in the studio. And then I’d come home in the evening, and I just happened to be with my daughter Mary’s family. The combination of being able to go to work, make some music, and then hang out with four of my grandkids, I was very lucky. Y’know, we were being super careful, but being able to make music really helped.

At what point did you realise that what you were doing was making McCartney III?

Right at the end of it, I’d just been stockpiling tracks, and I thought, ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do with all of this – I guess I’ll hang onto it,’ and then I thought, ‘Wait a minute, this is a McCartney record,’ because I’d played everything and done it in the same manner as McCartney I and II. That was a little light bulb going off, and I thought, ‘Well, at least that makes a point of explaining what I’ve been doing, unbeknownst to me.’

It’s been 40 years since McCartney II – has there ever been a point between then and now that you’ve intended to make number III before?

No. Actually, not at all. I did McCartney right after The Beatles in 1970, McCartney II in 1980, and I did other similar projects, like The Firemen, working with Youth – that was a little bit similar because we’d go in the studio and Youth or I would just have a little bit of an idea, and it was a kind of homemade product, but it never occurred to me to do another McCartney album.

There have been rumours about the release of this new album over the last few weeks, and within those is a theory that McCartney III will be your last record.

Everything I do is always supposed to be my last. When I was 50 – “That’s his last tour.” And it was like, ‘Oh, is it? I don’t think so.’ It’s the rumour mill, but that’s ok. When we did Abbey Road I was dead, so everything else is a bonus.

In 1970, McCartney was an album that featured themes of home, the family and love. What features on this new one?

I think it’s similar. It’s to do with freedom and love. There’s a varied lot of feelings on it, but I didn’t set out for it to all be like, ‘This is how I feel at this moment.’ The old themes are there, of love and optimism. ‘Seize the Day’ – it’s me. That’s the truth.

#paul mccartney #mccartney iii #old paul #*m #(im so hyped i literally cant say anything coherent about all this stuff)#(im just so so soooooooooooooooooooooo happy...)#look at him sitting there with all his guitars.. oh boy im in love #(i cant wait to hear deep deep feeling...)#grandpaul

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

CAPITAL LETTERS: Christmas Special

BONUS TRACK: CHANGE YOUR MIND

Member: Juyeon

Genre: CHRISTMAS FLUFF AND A TINY BIT OF SMUT

Word Count: 2.3k words

A/N: Merry Christmas to all my readers out there! I hope you’re safe, warm and happy wherever you are! I considered writing a full-on smut for this special but decided not to, in the spirit of wholesome giving. I hope this will serve as a little token of appreciation for your patience in reading my work. <3

My love,

You’ve been away far too long now, I’m starting to feel like I’m forgetting your scent. How is it like over there? Is the weather kind to you? Are you eating well? I hope you miss me as much as I miss you.

Love, Juyeon

Your lids droop halfway down your eyeballs, chucking away the handwritten letter into your purse and looking behind your shoulder.

“You are extremely dramatic for someone who’s been sitting right outside my office,” He pulls the door open and pops his head in. His hair is a new mixture of black with highlights the colour of clouds and it couldn’t have made him look better.

Your jaw drops open in pleasant surprise, eyes trying to process the sight before you. But then he walks in, and he’s very obviously hiding something behind his back. A squint forms on your lids and that playful tongue of his darts out to swipe across his lower lip, just moments before he lunges forward and pecks you on your lips.

He doesn’t want you to hug him because he knows you’ll find some way to climb onto him and figure out what he’s hiding behind his back.

“What, no time to rest?” Folding your arms, you raise a brow when he coyly walks backward into your sofa, careful not to crush whatever he was holding behind his back. “First, you come into my office looking like that then now you’re hiding, what, keys to your helicopter behind your back?”

“What’s wrong with looking like ‘that’?” Mischief creeps along his lips in the form of a smirk, cuing you to provide him with an exaggerated scoff.

“You know what I mean.”

You can feel him watch you as you walk around to the back of your table, packing all your Christmas gifts from your colleagues into the shelves or drawers.

“Well, aren’t you going to try and figure out what I got for you?”

“I’ll just wait until you can’t take it anymore. It’s not like you can hide that behind your back all the way till we get home, you need to drive.”

“Ugh,” Groaning in mild frustration, the friction of fabric against sofa tells that Juyeon removed himself from the furniture, the gentle footsteps into the marble floor getting closer to you. His presence is strong behind you, then both his hands travel around the side of your waist, under your arms, and presents you a Christmas bouquet of white and red roses with a gold wrap.

You don’t bother to take the bouquet, but instead, you whip around and wrap your arms around his torso, resting your head in his chest. Juyeon chuckles, sinking his nose and lips into the crown of your head. You can feel him trying to tighten his hold around you despite the bouquet still being in one of his hands.

“Thank you,” He releases you as you take the bouquet from him, his hands dropping to your waist. “Now I feel bad for making you wait outside my office.”

“You did warn me,” The bouquet looks large when it’s in your hands, but all you do is stare and gleam at the flowers like it was gold. “Besides, watching you work is kinda hot.”

“Says you,” Looking up, Juyeon smiles not with his lips, but with his eyes as he leans forward. Providing you with a long, hard, kiss, Juyeon removes the bouquet from your hands, placing it on the desk behind him. Closing the gap between your bodies, he pulls you forward as he shifts back to lean against your desk, your thighs between his knees as your arms travel up his chest and around his neck.

The pilot tastes like mint chocolate, of which you can assume was due to his habit of brushing his teeth after he ate.

“Yo, have you looked at the production details for the-- oh my God! What the--”

Juyeon almost refuses to release you when he can recognise Sunwoo’s voice, though you’ve already panicked and broken the kiss.

“Oh-- Jesus-- Didn’t I tell you to knock before you come in?” Sunwoo watches you try to pull yourself away from Juyeon, but he intertwines his fingers behind your back. His head is turned around and looking at Sunwoo with the widest grin on his face.

“Since when the Hell did you tell me to knock?” Sunwoo raises his hand in a bid to greet Juyeon, who nods in acknowledgement.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Juyeon receives a gentle thwack on his chest. "Blame me."

"He's got a point, it's your office."

"Whose side are you on?"

"Ugh, I'll leave the production file here," Sunwoo tosses the glossy item onto the sofa Juyeon was previously sitting on. "Remind me never to touch your desk, like, ever."

"Bye, Sunwoo!" Juyeon calls out, pulling you closer and pasting his torso to your body.

"Yeah, yeah, knock yourself out," Sunwoo's voice trails off as he walks out, shutting the door behind him. Your attention returns to Juyeon, eyes forming a squint again as you arch your back and look down at those playful eyes; eyes that looked like they belong to a five-year-old.

"Tsk! You--" Juyeon suddenly stands up and crashes his lips into yours again, your neck tilting upwards but resting in his palms as he cups your cheek. You can smell the breathy mint despite already tasting it, and the cologne that was wafting off his white button up top was gradually intoxicating your thoughts. The same way he was able to win you over with a gap of one year in between.

Every muscle in his arms shifts under your fingers, the way he's kissing you feels like swimming in a pile of cotton and clouds and snow.

He offers a soft moan before pulling away, brushing his thumb across your lower lip to clean off the smudged lip tint. "Ah," He touches his own lips. "Now everybody in your office will know we kissed."

This time, you roll your eyes and let him kiss you on the forehead.

Juyeon closes the car door for you, leaving you to admire the flowers in the bouquet as he walks around the vehicle. The car smells like him, and when he gets into the car, all you want to do is to jump on him and litter kisses all over his face and hug him and watch Christmas movies and--

"Again with your staring," The smirk he has on his face makes you want to barf because he's teasing with you, flirting, as if the two of you aren't already together. "Do I get to bring you to your next present or do you need more time staring at me?”

"Everything you're saying now is only making me think of when we first met."

"How do you know I'm not doing it on purpose?"

The morning after you finally saw him again after one year.

Maybe it was the Christmas spirit that was getting to him, but you can't help but to look at him with the most done eyes you've ever given someone.

"Alright, alright. I won't be such a prick now. We'll go, okay?"

"And where are we going?"

It takes you awhile to realise Juyeon was driving out of the city, away from the lights and further into the country side where snow collects in mounts and nobody would bother those white pillows. You would protest and ask him if he was trying to kidnap you, but all you can see is the way the snow sparkles under the street lights, the distant stars of Mars and Jupiter in the sky like a white dot in the navy canvas.

The road ends and the vehicle comes to a stop. Juyeon gives you a secretive smile as he reaches behind and picks up a large bag, exiting the car while waiting for you to follow suit. The puffs that escape through your every exhale form tiny clouds as Juyeon holds your hand and walks down a slippery path. The both of you are tucked in thick coats and scarves and gloves but just having him with you feel so warm in itself.

If you thought Juyeon bringing you on a helicopter ride was romantic, you thought wrong.

The path among the trees open up into a huge space of white and blue, with the moon in the sky brimming its silver light down.

Right before you was a frozen water body, a frozen lake. The low lighting is slightly difficult to adjust to, so by the time you've turned to Juyeon in pleasant surprise, he's gotten two pairs of skates out from the bag he took from the car.

Juyeon pulls you to your feet after he helps you buckle your skates, and the ice below the blades pulls you nearer to him due to your lack of balance. His laughter sounds like a song by your ears, feeling his arms hold you up to your feet and his hands are on your waist to hold you still.

Then, you are drifting across the cold space in his arms as he plasters himself to you, despite the many layers of clothing between your chests. Your head is in his shoulder, gently inhaling his scent off his coat though the snow should’ve melted it away.

“You good?”

A mellow hum thrums through your throat as a smile stretches itself across your lips. You look up at him, straight into those eyes of his that looked nothing short of your world. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pulls your beanie down over your ears, one hand still on your waist and yours around his torso. “I don’t know, you’re quiet.”

“I’m enjoying the moment,” Nestling your head back into his chest, it feels like heaven and pillows and clouds and marshmallows until he tells you it’s time to go.

By the time you’re in the car, you’ve lost count of the number of times Juyeon has lost his words in your mouth. After dumping the skates into the boot, he pulled you into the backseat, for a few minutes battling the awkward fart-sounding noises of the leather before he has you straddling his lap.

He’s looking up at you like you were a God, and it forces chills down your spine as you tilt your head to give him exactly what he wanted.

“Ju--” A kiss.

“Hmm?” Another kiss.

“We’re not staying here all night--” One more. “Are we?”

He pulls away, eyes hooded when he turns his attention to your neck. “Of course not, I have more presents for you at home.”

“What? What else did you get me?” Finding his cheeks in your palm, you pull him back to face you. But all he does is nuzzle your skin with his nose, pressing kisses into the heart of your palm with his shadowed eyes watching you.

“You’ll find out when we get home,” Your waist feels warm just as he circles your waist with his arms. “I’d stay like this with for longer if I could, pity a day only has 24 hours. That’s too little time.”

Ugh, what a sweet talker.

“Okay, well... I don’t want to wait until the sunrises before I can drink hot chocolate and watch Christmas movies with you so maybe we should go.”

Juyeon provides you the tiniest pout, before he relents and quickly pecks you on the cheeks.

You couldn't decide what it was that decided you deserved a life like this. There must've been something you had done in your past life to be snuggled up against Juyeon's chest, both of you in matching pajamas and two mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows bobbing up and down inside on the table by your feet.

The blanket was covering most of you, only up to his chest while his arms are wrapped around you. The light from the television is reflecting off his face and his eyes, the amber lighting of his living room making it all the more comfortable and cozy for you. The snow outside was billowing and yet you feel so far away from danger.

He smells like lemon from his body wash and his fingers that were interlocked with yours feel warm against your skin.

Juyeon's attention was unrivalled when he doesn't notice how long you've spent staring at his side profile. He was mindlessly fiddling with your fingers under the blanket and stroking the length of your calf that was over his thighs. The movie was some stupid rom-com he said he wanted to watch, and you let him, only because he watched horror movies with you whenever you wanted.

Resting your chin on his shoulder, the physical contact finally gains his notice.

"Why? Are you sleepy? Shall we call it a day?" He picks up the remote and pauses the movie, turning to his side to face you.

"I am, but we don't have to sleep now. It's not midnight yet."

Juyeon's little smile in the corner of his lips melt your thoughts through and through, his slightly damp white highlights against his lashes. His hand travels up to rub your ears, tips slightly cool.

"Who said we need to wait till midnight?" His arm comes round your waist under the blanket and pulls you into his chest, forcing you into more or less a cradled position.b

"I don't know, wouldn't it be nice to stay away till Christmas and then I get to kiss you the first second of our first Christmas together?" Goosebumps erupt all over your skin as you cringe over what you've just said, but Juyeon likes that kind of nonsense and he laughs into your lips when he plants a kiss to them.

"There's no need to wait for Christmas, princess," Cupping your cheek in his palm, he pulls away just slightly to finish the rest of his sentence. "You can kiss me anytime you want."

“Wait,” You pull away, thumb brushing across his lower lip as his breath hits yours. He playfully raises a brow, already not in favour of the gap between your faces. “What’s my present?”

He pauses, then reads your eyes. He knows you already know what the present is.

“Me, for the rest of your life and mine.”

#lee juyeon #juyeon #the boyz juyeon #juyeon imagines #juyeon scenario #the boyz scenario #the boyz imagines #tbz #tbz juyeon

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freckledoriya · 4 years

Text

“no flash photography” (midoriya x reader)

WARNINGS: none, just fluff!

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

SUMMARY: You’re a pro-hero photojournalist assigned to capture the number one hero, Deku. But what happens when you start catching feelings through your camera lens?

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | requests are OPEN!

TAGLIST: at the end of the post, message me to be added/removed!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this my fourth fic for @bnhabookclub‘s bingo event (see my bingo masterlist here). and a big thanks to @sunflower-kami-boi and @gallickingun for beta reading and supporting me!!

You love Izuku Midoriya: the way his freckles speckle his cheekbones, his ability to smile even through his toughest battles, the mess of green curls that are just begging to have your hands run through them. And then there are his hands: soft, yet calloused from fighting. When you interlock your hands with his, you swear you can feel electricity from his quirk pass from him to you. At least, that’s what you imagine holding hands with him would be like.

No, you don’t love Izuku Midoriya. You love taking pictures of Izuku Midoriya.

That’s the correction that you keep telling yourself. Your job as a hero photojournalist has been a journey, one that started out as a fangirl’s hobby and morphed into a profession as a photographer for the magazine Hero Weekly. More specifically, a photographer who was recently assigned to capture exclusively the world’s number one hero, Deku.

The day that Midoriya was given the title of number one was the day that everything changed for you. You went from a respected photographer to what often felt like part of the paparazzi, following Izuku around the city as he fought villains, but also secretly taking pictures as he went out to dinner with his fellow heroes. That part of your job kept you up at night. You knew it was an invasion of his privacy, but you needed the approval from your boss. The guilt and fear crawled all over your skin, amplified only when you started catching feelings for the hero. But your dream of becoming a renowned hero photographer depended on it. So you pushed aside all the anxiety and did exactly what your manager asked of you:

“I want to know who he’s dating, what he likes, dislikes, details of his quirk, extra bonus if you happen to get shot of him shirtless” your boss rattled off.

Ever since All Might’s retirement, the magazine had been hurting for another star to focus on. It resulted in budget cuts and threatened lay-offs, leaving everyone, including you, on thin ice. And after years of waiting, young upstart Midoriya fit that bill perfectly. His curls seemed to frame his round yet somehow chiseled face. And those freckles. If his beautifully sculpted body wasn’t enough to get the fangirls on board, the freckles always got them. After all, he didn’t become number one solely from his nearly flawless track record with villains; it definitely didn’t hurt that he had a shy and modest smile that any woman would be enchanted by.

You sure were.

But being assigned to Deku was an exhausting task. Following him around from battle to battle was hard enough, and you soon found yourself in a battle of your own-- one with your deep admiration towards the green-haired hero. You began to feel linked somehow with Izuku through your photos. It was as one-sided as you could get, with Midoriya never knowing your existence (a fact that caused an unbelievable amount of pain). Despite this, you felt like you knew Izuku personally, as if he goes on dinner dates with you at his favorite restaurant on the corner. Or that it’s he, not the press, that reveals his ticks and habits. You would sit a considerable distance away, watching through a cafe window, imagining yourself on the other side of the table from him. You’d laugh at his jokes, flirt and cause him to get all adorably flustered, and gaze longingly into his emerald eyes. You hope and wish that one day it won’t just be through a camera lens.

You couldn’t help but feel some kind of intimate connection with the hero. After all, you experienced just about everything he did. His fights, his wins, his loses… every scar, every bruise, you were there for it all. So how could you not feel this way?

It was all inevitable, and you gave right into it: reading everything you could find on him, even going to his regularly visited coffee shop on your day off of work. You knew the chances of running into him were slim, and yet you did it anyway. You were desperately chasing a feeling of closeness with him, and somehow sitting in a place that he visited gave you a piece of what you craved.

You ponder this as you sit in the aforementioned cafe, sipping your coffee and going through the photos on your camera, jotting down notes. It’s crowded, the morning rush, so you pay no mind to the “ding” of the door opening and the tall hero walking in. It’s his voice when he orders that catches your attention, a voice unmistakably belonging to the one and only, Izuku Midoriya.

You quickly turn away and throw your hand over your mouth, wary of any sounds that might come out. This was different from when you would see him behind a camera lens. You weren’t doing work, surrounded by others clamoring to get a money shot. You were here as you, not just a nothing face behind flashing lights.

When you turn back around, you half expect him to be gone, for you to have totally gone crazy imagining him. But, he’s still there. He’s in what must be his work out clothes: basketball shorts and a worn All Might shirt, looking as effortlessly perfect as every other time you’ve seen him. And that’s when it hits you. This is it. This is the chance you have to talk to him.

But what would you say? What could you say? What if he recognizes you as one of the no-life photographers who follow him around? Should you keep that a secret? Will he hate you? A thousand questions fly through your head as you ponder the possibilities. Should you call out to him? Would it be weird that you know his name? Do you call him by his hero name or his real name?

He begins to walk past you after grabbing his coffee order. Your heart drops at the sight of him leaving.

Do something.

“Deku!” you call out, careful to keep your volume as low as possible as to not alert the other patrons around you.

He quickly turns and looks at you expectantly. “Yes?”

“Um…”

Say something.

“I…”

Anything.

“I’m a really big fan!”

Anything but that.

But it’s too late. The words were spoken and reached Midoriya’s ears.

“T-Thank you,” he looks away, smiling as a slight blush appears on his freckled cheeks.

“So do you take pictures?” he asks, nodding down to your camera on the table.

“Yeah,” you reply shakily, still deciding on how much information about yourself you should reveal.

Izuku smiles at you. “What do you like to take pictures of?”

Shit.

You swallow and nervously pick at your cuticles. You don’t want to lie to him, but you don’t exactly want to start off the relationship with him knowing you take secret pictures of him so that a magazine can sell. You tread carefully as you speak.

“Heroes,” you reply simply. “I take pictures of heroes.”

Letting out an awkward laugh, you gesture to the seat across from you, inviting him to join you.

“Can you show me some of your work?” He tilts his head in curiosity as he accepts your invitation to sit down.

No no no no no.

You embarrassingly know that the camera you’re currently holding contains pictures you took of the hero last night as he left his high-rise apartment. Thinking quickly, you pull out your phone and go to the Hero Weekly website, remembering that they ran a picture you snapped of Red Riot in battle last week. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a photo you captured for fun when you happened to stumble upon the fight. Still, it was better than showing what was on your camera memory card currently.

“Whoa, that’s a great picture of Kirishima!” he says ecstatically. “Is that from Hero Weekly? That’s impressive!”

His praise causes your stomach to do flips. “Thank you. I really appreciate that coming from you.”

“What got you into taking pictures of heroes?”

You sigh and look into your coffee cup, hoping the beverage will spell out the right words to say.

“I’ve always really looked up to heroes. Ever since I was little. But I never bought into the “larger than life” hero personas that the rest of the media seemed to portray. They miss the most amazing thing about heroes: they’re human, just like everyone else.”

You look at Izuku shyly, unsure if you should be opening up to him like this after just meeting him. “When I photograph heroes, I like to ground them, see past the exterior. Capture their magnificent strength and power, but show that they have feelings, wants, and needs. They all have passions and flaws. And that’s what I love so much about heroes. They’re relatively ordinary humans that do extraordinary things.”

There’s a beat of silence that passes as Midoriya looks at you in amazement. He smiles and slightly bites his lip, obviously debating about the next thing he wants to say.

“Is that why you photograph me in private places?”

You feel your heart plummet. “H-How did you know?”

Izuku blushes and rubs the back of his neck embarrassingly. “I kinda of… may have… noticed you a few times.”

You’re stuck in shock, your mind short-circuiting, leaving your mouth slightly ajar with no words coming out.

Deku sees your frozen look and starts frantically waving his hands, speaking at a million words per second. “Not in a weird or creepy way of course just that you’re really pretty and sometimes when I’m out places I notice you trying to get my picture so sometimes I make sure to give you a clear shot, I really hope that’s okay, It’s not because I don’t think you’re capable of getting your own picture, I just-”

A fit of giggles escapes from your lips. “How are you even more adorable than I imagined?”

He blushes as you try to stop laughing.

But you can’t help it. All your worries and fears melt away and you’re left with all you ever wanted: sitting across from the blushing hero Deku in a cafe, pure happiness running through your veins.

You don’t even notice the paparazzi capturing the moment from the bushes outside.

TAGLIST:

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#izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #bnha x reader

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